Powers of Ten
by cc4s
Summary: 1000th Hunger Games. 100 tributes. 10 Teams. 1 Ultimate Victor. The rebellion never happened. It's the 1000th Hunger Games, and this year, 100 tributes are going into the arena where they will be split up into 10 teams of 10. What's this Ultimate Victor everyone's talking about? This will surely be the most epic Quarter Quell yet. - SYOT closed -
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games!**

**A/N: So, this idea was inspired by an absolutely amazing story that I've read by Bookluvr2 called The War Games. **

**This will be an SYOT - the rebellion never happened and it's the 1000th Hunger Games! This year, for the Quarter Quell, one hundred tributes will be entering the arena where they will be split up into ten teams and ranked based on their training scores. The team with the last remaining tribute/s will be proclaimed the winning team, and all members of that team will be considered Victor. However, the remaining team member of the winning team of the highest rank will be proclaimed the Ultimate Victor and he or she and his or her district will be forever honored and given privileges and riches far beyond that which any Victor has ever received. In addition, the Victor will be given a very special opportunity in the next Hunger Games.**

**THE TRIBUTE FORM HAS BEEN MOVED TO MY PROFILE, YOU CAN FIND IT THERE! PLEASE ONLY SEND IN YOUR TRIBUTES THROUGH PM, I DO NOT WANT THIS STORY TO BE REMOVED!**

**So . . . here's the prologue. I know it's really short but all the other chapters will be much longer.**

President Echo stepped down from the microphone as she finished broadcasting her message about this year's Quarter Quell to the entire country. The slogan for this year's Hunger Games blared across the screen: 1000th Hunger Games. 100 tributes. 10 teams. 1 Ultimate Victor.

"Well this will be an exciting year, won't it, President Echo?" The new head Gamemaker, Evander Florius emerged behind her.

The president let out a girlish giggle. "Yes, it certainly will be, Evander. As far as tributes in the Hunger Games are concerned, it's the more the merrier."

The head Gamemaker nodded. "Yes. And the idea of the Ultimate Victor is wonderful. I'm glad that it will be the highest ranking remaining tribute of the winning team. This could possibly encourage some fighting within the same teams. Perhaps a lower ranking tribute will possess a great desire to be Ultimate Victor and even kill a higher ranking teammate of theirs."

President Echo gave Florius a sly grin.

The Gamemaker's face became wrought. "But President Echo, I must ask: do you think it . . . wise . . . to give such power to the Ultimate Victor in terms of the next Games."

"I do." Replied the woman curtly, her short white hair highlighting her silver eyes as they stared him down. "Personally, I think it's rather brilliant. The Ultimate Victor, besides the riches and fame beyond belief - beyond that which any other Victor has ever or will ever receive - will have the power during the next Hunger Games to decide which male and female tributes will be chosen from their district, as well as one other tribute from another district of their choice. For some tributes, this will be appealing - they will have the power to decide whom from their district will participate in the next Hunger Games. And for some, it will be appealing, because this indirectly will give them the power to decide who will _not _participate in the next Hunger Games."

Florius nodded. "Alright. I must admit. Brilliant indeed."

**A/N: Okay! I know that was short, but it will get longer! I promise!**

**The form has been moved to my profile due to my finding out that it was against the rules to have it here. From now on, I can only accept tributes via PM! Any tributes submitted in a review will not be accepted!**

**REMEMBER TO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE KEEP SUBMITTING THOSE TRIBUTES :D**


	2. The Arena Configuration

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games!**

**A/N: So . . . hi! Thank you so so much to everyone who has submitted a character so far :) I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY NEED MORE THOUGH! Starting with the next chapter after this one, I will be doing the reapings. It will be in four chapters, so the first one will be districts 1-3. Please submit your tributes for those districts, especially district 3, which only has two tributes so far! You are welcome to submit to other districts, but please keep in mind that the first chapter of reapings can only come when I have enough tributes for districts 1-3. I am hoping to have about 25 tributes total in each set of three districts, so that would mean 25 in districts 1-3 to be reaped in the next chapter. Thanks again, and I always love getting your tributes. **_**KEEP SENDING THEM IN!**_

Evander Florius opened the door the door to President Echo's office.

She motioned for him to enter.

As he did so, his long black cape billowed from behind him and emitted a loud swooshing noise.

He was followed by Sparta McCathy, his best friend, who happened to be a Gamemaker alongside Evander.

"So, have you begun designing this year's arena, Evander?"

"Yes, President Echo. Sparta and I are just here to inform you of the final plans."

"Excellent."

Sparta spoke up. "We will be having one Cornucopia in the center of the arena. It will be over four times larger than it has ever been before - because we will be having more than four times the amount of tributes that we have ever had before."

Evander piped in. "Surrounding the Cornucopia will be ten paths each leading to a different Team's Base. They will have to travel quite far between the Cornucopia and their own base. Every member of the Team will start out in their own Base. They will have to decide whether some, none, or all of them will be running out to the Cornucopia when the Games first start, and if so - who."

"Lovely."

Sparta concluded. "Though the Bases will be adjacent to one another, they will be surrounded by a forcefield to either side. If one Team wants to invade another, they will not be able to merely walk into the other Team's Base. Instead, they will have to walk all the way back to the Cornucopia and from there choose the path leading the another Team's Base rather than there own."

President Echo nodded her head in approval. "Well done, boys. I am quite impressed with this year's plans so far. Get excited, Gamemakers. The reapings are just days away. Soon we will have to begin forming the ten Teams."

Evander smiled, "oh, don't worry, President Echo. We are more than excited. In fact, as you know, the Quarter Quells are always the most exciting Hunger Games. And I think this will be the most epic Quarter Quell yet."

"Can I count on you to make it so, Evander?"

"Yes, President Echo. Yes, I think you can."

**A/N: Thanks for reading this! Remember to keep on submitting your tributes. The sooner I get enough for districts 1-3, the sooner that chapter will come! Also, I apologize for how short this chapter was, but starting with the next one they will be much longer!**

**KEEP SUBMITTING THOSE TRIBUTES! I DO NOT HAVE NEARLY ENOUGH TRIBUTES FOR DISTRICTS 1-3 TO BEGIN WRITING THE REAPINGS, ESPECIALLY IN DISTRICT 3!**

**Thanks again, and I look forward to getting the rest of your tributes :)**

**Also, now that you know a bit more about the arena and the way the Games will go, if anyone has any ideas for the plot or for a Team's strategy, feel free to PM me!**


	3. Reapings: Districts 1-3

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games!**

**A/N: Okay, so thank you so much to everyone who has submitted tributes! I love them all and really appreciate them :) **

**This will be the first chapter of the reapings, and I hope you like it! There will be four reaping chapters total with three districts in each.**

**Anyone who likes this story might want to check out The Gladiator Tournament by jakeboy4914. It's pretty similar to this one, except it's not an SYOT, and the author has asked me to ask you guys to check it out :)**

**Sorry for the slow update, but it's been really hard getting all the tributes in for these districts, and I've been really busy lately. I hope you like this chapter though, and please please please review it! Also, as there will be so many tributes in this story, please don't be upset if yours does not have such a huge part. Remember that the more you gave me to work with, the more I can write about your tribute. Also, sorry if I change your reaping outfit ideas slightly! Sorry if I interpret your character a little differently than you expected or change them a little. **

**Don't forget to review, and let me know your favorite tributes so far!**

**District 1**

**Nate Brenner**

Nate sighed. It was reaping day again. Nate looked into his bedroom mirror and his own reflection stared back at him: deep blue eyes, tanned skin, and spiky black hair. Just an average appearance, right? Why were girls always staring at him so uncomfortably then? Nate was often confused about things like these, and looking at himself in the mirror just reminded him of them.

His thoughts were soon brought back to the moment; reaping day. He ran his fingers through the latter. Reaping day always made Nate nervous. He just didn't like the idea of people having to be chosen to go into an arena to fight to the death. And as for the Careers in his district, (which was about ninety-nine percent of the district 1 tributes) well Nate pitied them too, they had basically been brainwashed into thinking that killing for entertainment was a great, glory-worthy thing.

Well, at least Morgan couldn't be reaped, and just at that thought Nate could feel his mouth turning up into a smile. Why should he focus on the negative when there was so much positive.

Morgan was Nate's six-year-old sister and he loved her more than anything.

Nate dashed down the staircase and entered the kitchen to find his mother and sister waiting patiently at the table. Morgan's blue eyes were wide and both girls' faces broke out into a smile when Nate entered the room.

"Nate, honey," his mom began, "I can tell it's reaping day just by your outfit."

Nate laughed. He was wearing what his mother called his "signature reaping outfit." Every year on reaping day, Nate wore the same crisp white button-down shirt and khaki slacks. Most would say that this is not the most memorable outfit, but it was a running joke between Nate and his mom that it was the same _exact _shirt as every year, which they can tell by the tiny ketchup stain at the collar.

Nate proceeded to making the breakfast (scrambled eggs) and setting it down at the kitchen table. It was no secret that Isabel Brenner was a horrible cook, and she preferred her son to do the cooking. As soon as Nate sat down, Morgan leapt into his lap.

"Hey Morgan, how'd you sleep, little cutie?"

Morgan puffed up her chest. "I'm not little."

Nate chuckled. Morgan was going through a faze where she was obsessed with being treated like a big girl.

"Okay, then how'd you sleep big cutie?"

Morgan beamed and threw her arms around Nate's neck.

Isabel checked the time. "We'd better be going in a little while if we're going to make it to the reapings on time. I think there's time for one trip to the toy store Morgan, to buy that new dolly you wanted."

_Shit. _Nate suddenly remembered that he was supposed to have been tutoring Gold Harken in math. "I have to go mom, I'll meet you guys at the reapings." And with that, he rushed on. Nate ran to Gold's house where he was greeted by Mrs. Harken and informed Gold that they would have to reschedule. Nate knew that tutoring on reaping day would never work out! Why had he agreed to it? Oh well, he would have to help Gold some other time.

There was still enough time for him to walk leisurely to the reapings and not have to sprint, though not enough to explain to Gold the entire week's lessons in math.

Nate tried to take in the beautiful scenery of district 1.

"Hey Nate!" Sequin Lotus. Her and her friend Tilly, under the names Fuchsia and Coco, had made it there business to successfully make it to home base with every boy in the district.

Nate shrugged, to each their own.

But he did not like the goggly eyes coming his way from Emerald Valence, and when she too called his name, he merely responded with a friendly smile and confused wave.

**Shine Lancast**

"Hey, Shiny-Boy! Get back here!" Shine groaned. He was not in the mood to deal with his own personal tormenters, Bryce Hart. Bryce could barely think for himself, but had been ordered by his twin sister, Tessa, (who did come off as a bit of a dimwit herself, but Shine supposed that wouldn't stop her from bossing Bryce around, and knowing who was popular, and who was most certainly not) to personally make Shine's life a living hell and Bryce did just that.

"I'm not finished with you, Lancast!" Shine leapt behind a large, neatly groomed bush, and Bryce's tiny brain could not calculate his location. Shine shook his head. He really needed to learn how to defend himself better.

Shine was having a bad day. He could tell that Father was disappointed this morning at the breakfast table when speaking about how the Bradis' son had Volunteered last year at the age of sixteen and come out as a Victor. He had then grumbled something to hemself about wishing he had a son like that who could bring him glory. That had cut Shine deep.

Of course, Mother had come to his rescue and shout at him with a cry of "how dare you compare her precious little boy, to those brutal killers! If Shine does not want to Volunteer for the Games, he does not have to and that's final! I thought we discussed this ages ago when he didn't want to enroll in a training academy!"

Father had apologized to both Mother and Shine grudgingly, but that doesn't change what he said. And it doesn't change the fact that Shine knew that his Father would never be proud of him.

Well, at least he seemed to have lost Bryce.

Shine emerged from his bush of refuge, ignoring the querying looks he received from the wealthy family whose car was just pulling into their driveway as he left the bush on their lawn, and proceeded to the reapings.

**Tessa and Bryce Hart**

"Why are you such an idiot, Bryce?"

Bryce clenched his fists.

Tessa continued, "I mean, you should have parried there, and instead you countered with another blow!" She flicked him across the head. "How do you expect us to come out as Victors, me being the Ultimate Victor of course, if you don't even know when to perform what move?!"

Bryce was speechless.

"Well?" Tessa tapped her foot.

Tessa and Bryce's parents were both Victors, and the twins planned on following in their parents footsteps.

"You were supposed to make a shish kabob of that loser Shine Lancast this morning, it would have been good practice for the Games. But, I guess we'll just have to pull it together in the Capitol and the arena. I hope are team is okay, if they're no other Careers, we should probably just kill them off ourselves if they get too annoying or needy. After all, we're trying to win, not come out alive with eight others."

Bryce merely nodded and looked up when his parents entered the training area of the house.

"Finally following in our footsteps!" Mrs. Hart exclaimed. "We're so proud of you both!"

Her husband leaned down to kiss Tessa on the forehead, and clamped Bryce on the shoulder, "well kids, today's your big day, isn't it? All that training is finally about to pay off." He gave Tessa a wink, "I hope we pushed you hard enough.

**Bronze Tyce**

Bronze checked his reflection in his pocket mirror once again and sighed. Other people were just so lucky! They got to look at him all day long, while he himself could only check out his hotness every few seconds.

Bronze grinned as he passed a few hot girls who flipped their blond hair at him. He winked at them and continued on his way. Bronze loved reaping day. He got to display himself to everyone in the district and sometimes even watch some sucker getting reaped and being forced into the arena to be killed when there was no Volunteer (which, Bronze had to admit, was extremely rare).

This year, reaping day would be extra fun, Bronze thought as he adjusted his sunglasses and smoothed his t-shirt. Because, not only would he get to show off his hotness and awesomeness just for fun, but he was planning on Volunteering! He would be so glorified, and rightfully so.

And then, since there would be so many district 1 tributes this year, (because district one was just that awesome, well of course it was being as it was where Bronze lived. Or, as they had been told by the president, because the amounts of tributes for each district were based on how many Victors each district had produced over the past millennia and how far each district's tributes usually get, in order to produce the most exciting and epic Hunger Games in history) there were bound to be at least a _couple _of kids who are reaped, whom no one will Volunteer for.

Bronze checked his reflection once again. Perfect as usual.

Once Bronze became the Ultimate Victor, which was inevitable, of course, he would get even _more _attention, and _everyone _would see that he truly was the hottest and most amazing man alive.

Yep, in just a few weeks time, everyone will recognize Bronze's greatness even more than they already do. It actually shouldn't even take that long. Once he gets his training score of 12, they'll see it already.

Everyone will worship him, just like they should.

**Sterling Lancaster**

Sterling was going to Volunteer this year. Not just because he wanted to bring glory to himself or to his district, but to his father.

Sterling's father died a few years ago trying to break up a fight a few years ago while Sterling was training with another boy. Sterling had always felt incredibly guilty about that, and he figured the least he could do was devote his life to becoming a Victor to honor his father's memory.

This year was also a very good one to Volunteer, because there could be more than one Victor. Up to ten in fact (though only one _Ultimate _Victor) and Sterling was determined to be one. He knew he could do it; he had been training since the age of seven and had ranked high in his district.

And then there was the other reason: Sterling's siblings. Sterling could not possibly imagine funny little Max or sweet little Stephannie in the arena, forced to kill other children or die. Sterling figured that maybe if he Volunteered and won, that would be enough glory for the family, and they would not have to Volunteer. Or, in the event that Sterling was killed, hopefully neither Max nor Stephannie would have to enter the Games, because it would seem logical that two children heartbroken over the death of their big brother would not have to try and go to the same place in which he was killed. But Sterling was determined to not even have to use the second option; hopefully, he would make it out alive and that would be glory enough for the family. Hopefully.

"Ready to go, Sterling?" Sterling's mother opened the car door and motioned for him to step inside. He did so and sat in between Max and Stephannie. Stepannie gave him a swift hug and Sterling wiped the tears out of her eyes. The little girl had been so upset when Sterling told her that he was planning on Volunteering this year. And Sterling felt bad; he really did. But this was what had to be done.

In the driver's seat was Sterling's mother's boyfriend. They had been dating a little while now, and he now lived with the Lancasters, but Sterling could never seem to find a way to consider him a real part of the family like Mother had asked. He didn't need another father after all. He had barely gotten over his first one.

**Sequin Lotus**

Sequin and Tilly were sitting on Sequin's bed, counting up the cash they had made for the week.

"Not a bad haul," Tilly commended.

Sequin and Tilly were both strippers, under the names of Fuchsia and Coco, and had made a lot of money from it so far.

Sequin was wearing only her bright pink bra with the satin bows and skin tight leggings. She had put them both on this morning, after a very awkward experience. She had woken up in the bed of some random hot guy; Sequin didn't even remember his name.

Anyway, Sequin had woken up completely naked in his bed and had only quickly thrown on her bra and underwear when the idiot boy's mother came in to wake him up! What was she thinking?

The woman did not even know Sequin, (though, according to Tilly, Fuchsia and Coco had made quite a name for themselves around the district) but she had figured out what Sequin had been doing with her son the night before, and, needless to say she was not happy. She began screaming at her son (whose name Sequin still could not remember) with all her might, and, Sequin had just managed to sneak out before the angry woman could round on her too.

Sequin did not put on the leggings she was currently wearing until she reached her house, and, she had quite enjoyed her walk home without them.

"Go for the white mini-skirt instead," Tilly recommended. "You look sexier actually _showing _your legs, then just outlining them."

Sequin agreed and changed into her ruffly white mini-skirt that barely covered her butt.

"We should be going to the reapings soon," said Tilly. "I'd put on a shirt though, if I were you. We're not working now, after all, and you want to save some of yourself for when we are."

Sequin shrugged and threw on a see-through baby pink tube top that revealed much of her cleavage.

"Ready to go, Sequin, dear?" Sequin's mother's voice floated back to her from downstairs.

"Ready," she called back.

**Wonder Tassels**

Wonder flicked a stray piece of honey blond hair to the side. "All I'm saying, Silk, is that if you want to get anywhere in this district, you're going to have to work for it. I've done that, and that's why I'm going to Volunteer. Hopefully all of my hard work will pay off and our family's position on the social ladder will be elevated."

Sixteen-year-old Silk, his younger sister, shrugged, "fine, do what you want, Wonder. But I'm not going to ever Volunteer for those Games, I'm going to marry a rich, handsome man someday instead."

"Whatever you say, Silk."

The Tassels family was in the car on the way to the reapings. They lived far from the center of town and it usually took a while for them to get to the reapings with all of the traffic reaping day brought.

"If you meet a boy for me in the Games, Wonder, let me know. Hopefully he'll be on your team so you can both make it out alive." Silk's tone was bright.

Wonder smirked, "I guess I'll keep my eyes out."

"You know, I'm proud of you for Volunteering, Wonder. You've been training hard for this and I hope it'll pay off. I'm glad you've taken my advice, son."

"Thanks Dad," Wonder could feel himself filling with color slightly. But the truth was, Wonder would be proud of his son too if the roles were reversed. The Tassels were not very high up on the social ladder, and Wonder had trained tirelessly for the Games in order to raise their status a little.

Silk pushed a golden lock behind her shoulder, "I'm gonna miss you, Wonder. I'll be the only child."

Wonder chuckled, "you'll survive Silk. Maybe you'll even get a little less lazy and start-"

"Wonder," his mother began in a warning tone.

"Only joking."

"You'd better be."

**Nicholas James**

"Nick! Nick! Watch what I can do! Watch what I can do!"

Nicholas laughed as his little sister, Caitlynn flipped and cartwheeled all over the place as he ate his breakfast of toast.

"I know, Cait. You're great. You've showed me before. So, you excited to see your big brother show those Careers what he's made of?"

Caitlynn frowned.

"I'm Volunteering this year, Caitlynn, don't you remember? I can do this." _I can do this . . . I can do this . . . Can I do this?_

"Aw, cheer up Caitlynn. I have an even better chance than I normally would of coming out alive. And now I know I _have _to come back to see you doing your new . . ."

Caitlynn interjected him. "Back Handspring into a Dive Roll followed by an Arabian Double Front and then into . . ."

Nicholas wasn't paying attention to the rest of the gymnastics words he did not understand in the least. He had completely forgotten! Caitlynn's first gymnastics recital was in a week and a half and Nick wasn't even going to be there! On top of that, his mother probably won't be paying as much attention to the recital as she should, because she'll be busy worrying about Nicholas or excited about how good he's doing (hopefully) or how good relations he's made with the other Careers on his team (again, hopefully, and, this one, Nicholas knew, had a very small chance of coming true, but he had to try anyway) to focus on Caitlynn's cute little flips and Back Hanspiwhatas or whatever she had said.

Nick sighed. He had to do this though. He had to Volunteer. He just had to. He gad to prove that he was big and strong and a real Career. Not just some crybaby like most seemed to believe.

Nick thought maybe he would go out and get a head start at showing his manliness. He decided to go have a conversation with some of those considered cooler than him. Nick stood up and walked out of the kitchen, accidentally bumping his head on the glass door; not realizing that it was there, and, rubbing his head from the throbbing pain, turned around to make sure Caitlynn had not seen before fleeing the house in embarrassment.

There they were: right down his street. The populars. Nick just wanted to be one of them! He wanted to be cool! Why did he always have to freeze up and act like a dork around them?

Nick took a deep breath and strutted over to their huddle.

He had just meant to say hi. Really, he had. ( Or maybe casually mention that he was planning on Volunteering that year.) Just wanted to show off some of his good-natured humor and wit.

But that's not what he wound up doing.

Instead, Nicholas the dork accidentally let out a loud, heartfelt belch, right in Shimmer Silver's face. He could feel his face rapidly filling with color. Why was he such a loser? And he felt so awful now, Shimmer was freaking out, letting out shrieks and cries, and Nick couldn't even muster up the strength to try and cheer her up.

Nick slowly backed away. Now seemed about a good time to go to the reapings. He'd done too much damage already. Maybe he could redeem himself by Volunteering.

**Shimmer Silver**

Shimmer was disgusted. That loser boy had just _burped _right into her shiny blue eyes. She had to get home and clean herself up.

Abashed, Shimmer said goodbye to her friends and ran home. Shimmer didn't want to go home. She never did. But this catastrophe was worthy of whatever Father had in store for her.

Father lost his wife twenty years ago to the Hunger Games. She was eighteen and they had been newlyweds. After that, Father had gone completely berserk. He knocked up random women and Shimmer often found him muttering to himself.

When Shimmer and her little sister, Lilley were born, and given to their father, he began physically abusing them and badgering both Shimmer, (who did not mind in the least bit, and was glad for the training) and poor, sweet, innocent little Lilley (who objected greatly) to train their hearts out and get ready to Volunteer for the Hunger Games.

Shimmer loved little Lilley so much. She wasn't even sure whether the little girl was her full or half sister, because she didn't know what her father had done with which women in the four years between the time Shimmer was born, and the time her twelve-year-old sister was.

Shimmer feared for Lilley being reaped. Of course Shimmer was going to Volunteer. Shimmer was cut out for this sort of thing. She could easily win. As for Lilley, there was no way. And this year so many tributes were going in. What if Shimmer Volunteered for the first tribute that was reaped and then Lilley was reaped later on? What if nobody Volunteered for her? Shimmer sighed. She couldn't worry about that now.

Shimmer finally reached her house, and was relieved to find Father sitting on the couch, reading the paper. He didn't notice her entering, and she managed to slip by unnoticed.

In her room, Shimmer opened her closet and chose a sparkly ruby red dress that reached the floor, hugged her waist, and enhanced her bust. She pinned her long honey blond hair up fancily and let two strands hand loose. Then, she applied her black eyeliner and mascara, silver eyeshadow and glossed her lips in shimmery pink before proceeding to brush her smooth cheeks with dark pink blush.

Shimmer smiled. She looked stunning. To be honest she had originally intended only to fix her makeup. But the red dress looked so much better than the plain blue knee-length one she had been wearing. And Shimmer liked to feel beautiful on reaping day. Especially a reaping day as important as this one: the day she would Volunteer.

**Luster Madden**

"Hey _big bro, _what are you doing here?" Luster heard the mocking voice of his younger brother, Chrome. "Is my big bwuduh going to Volunteer for the big bad Hunger Games?"

Luster had not seen Chrome coming. He hardly ever did. Because Luster was blind in his left eye, and Chrome seemed to take pride in being able to sneak up on Luster on his blind side without his older brother noticing.

They were in the training center that Luster had been training at since the age of seven. Chrome, the "perfect son in every way" liked to pop up unannounced to Luster's training school, even though he attended a different one, just to annoy his older brother.

Luster wanted to make some snide remark about Chrome. Heck, he wanted to punch his brother right in the nose. But he didn't. Because Luster was a well-mannered, proper and polite gentleman, and never said anything discourteous, even to his douche-bag of a brother, Chrome.

So instead, he simply replied, "yes brother. I am. And might I ask you what _you're _doing at my training center on this fine reaping day morning?"

Chrome snorted, "I'm just here to annoy you. I'm not Volunteering until next year. At least there'll be one Victor in the family. Though Mother'll be so distraught from the time you die until next year when I win. I can't say the same for Father though."

It was true. Luster really didn't give Chrome enough credit. Chrome was not nearly as bad as his father. Strict, critical, and a control-freak, everything had to be exactly how Father wanted at all times with no exceptions. Of course he prefers Chrome to Luster, Chrome was much more muscular and had double the strength of his older brother.

Chrome was seventeen and Luster eighteen. Chrome was a better, stronger fighter and loved by their father. Even Mother, who loved both of her sons very much knew that Chrome had a much better chance of winning the Games than Luster did.

"Please go away, Chrome," Luster beckoned. "I need to get back to my training now."

And when he sliced the head off of his dummies this time, their was a little more power, the kind that could only come from being so infuriated as Chrome often made Luster.

**Reaping**

Mobs and mobs of citizens poured into town square as the District 1 reapings of the one thousandth annual Hunger Games began.

This year, the reapings were a little different than usual. One hundred tributes total would be entering the arena where they would be split up into ten teams of ten and ranked based upon their training scores.

The amount of tributes from each district were based on a combination of data accumulated over the past thousand years of how many Victors from each district there have been, and how long the tributes from each district usually survive in order to create what hopefully will be the most exciting Hunger Games in history.

This year, there were not two separate balls for males and females, but rather one large reaping ball with all the names in it.

After the usual speeches concluded, the District 1 escort, Lexus Anfie, stepped forward and gave a brief explanation of that year's Games while the new slogan for the one thousandth Hunger Games flashed before the whole district on the screen behind her: 1000th Hunger Games. 100 Tributes. 10 Teams. 1 Ultimate Victor.

Lexus was dripping in diamonds from head to toe, and her short cropped silver hair was accented with an exotic diamond encrusted fedora hat.

Her bright blue eyes were pure circles and she bounded up to the reaping ball. "Let the one thousandth annual Hunger Games begin! Ooh, how exciting!"

Lexus reached for the first name and called it out, loud and clear: "Leather Bane."

Down in the eighteen-year-old males section, Wonder Tassels was struggling with himself. _Stop being such a wimp _he commanded. He knew he wanted to Volunteer, and he also knew that it was now or never.

He was going to do this. He needed a higher place on the social ladder and he was going to get it. "I Volunteer!"

Wonder smiled as he saw the look of great relief that washed over Leather, a fourteen-year-old boy's face.

All eyes were on Wonder as he tentatively walked up to the stage and smiled at the crowd and then at Lexus.

"Welcome!" she cried. "Welcome, my dear dear boy! And might I ask your name, my dear?"

"Wonder Tassels," he replied. Wonder had done it. He was in. He had worked so hard, training for this moment and it was finally here.

"Wonderful!" exclaimed the escort. "Simply marvelous! I expect we'll be having many more Volunteers in such a district as District 1. Ooh-hoo! I'm so excited!"

Lexus proceeded to drawing out the next name and cleared her throat before reading it. "Silve-"

Sterling Lancaster cut her off from the seventeen-year-old males section, not even needing to hear the rest of the name. "I Volunteer as tribute!" He had to. He had to honor his father who had always loved the Games. It was his duty. And he would do his best to make it back to Max and Stephannie.

Sterling walked up to the stage and told Lexus his name.

"Oh, splendid! Just splendid! We're doing well so far, let's move on."

"Smooth Jonas."

Sequin Lotus, from the eighteen-year-old females section gasped. She knew Smooth Jones. She did not just know her - Smooth was Sequin's worst enemy. They were rivals in school; always competing for the boys' attention. How dare that slut have the privilege of going to the Games?! Sequin was going to take that away from her.

"I Volunteer!" She shrieked, "I Volunteer as tribute!" Sequin had not planned on Volunteering. At all. She had no training whatsoever. But at that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was taking the glory away from the peppy, cunning blond girl known as Smooth Jonas.

Sequin scampered up to meet Lexus, Wonder, and Sterling at the stage, puffing up her chest and shaking her hips as she did so.

"I'm Sequin Lotus," she said, before Lexus could even ask. Sequin grinned sexily at the audience and waved. Well at least she was pretty. She'd definitely get sponsors from that.

"Welcome, Sequin. Welcome, welcome."

Lexus called the next name. "Jewel Styles." It was a little girl. Shy and small at only thirteen.

Luster perked up. If he was going to Volunteer it was now or never. It didn't seem as though anyone else was going to Volunteer for Jewel, and this year he could because it didn't matter if the tributes were male or female. He was going to Volunteer anyway. Now was the perfect time. "I Volunteer!" he called. "I Volunteer as tribute!" Lexus beckoned him forward and asked him his name. "Luster Madden, Ma'am," he replied.

"Hello, Luster." She beamed.

Nicholas took in the tributes currently standing on the stage. There were already four. Only seven more chances to Volunteer. He looked from face to face of the boys.

Wonder; tall and well built with light honey blond hair.

Sterling; tan with spiky brown hair and deep blue eyes.

Sequin; shoulder length platinum blond curls with a pink streak, tall and curvy, and eyes of emerald green. In Nick's opinion, Sequin had her large bottom a little too close for comfort to Wonder, who seemed quite uncomfortable about it. Seeing the look on his face, she moved to Sterling instead.

And Luster; Luster Madden with his milky white blind eye covered with bangs, and his narrow, beady black one. His face betrayed no emotion and his back was straight as an arrow.

And Nicholas was about to join them all. Soon, he too would be up there. A Career. A District 1 tribute. He would be respected. He would be popular. He would be cool. All he had to do was say the two simple little words. "I Volunteer."

Nicholas beamed as he waved to the crowd and joined Lexus on the stage. "I'm Nicholas James," he said. In reply to her question.

Lexus reached for the next name from the giant reaping ball, and all of a sudden it all came crashing down on Nicholas.

He had just Volunteered. He was going to the Games. What had he done?! How could he do something so stupid?! Whereas mere moments before, Nick had been filled with elation at the prospect of going to, possibly even winning the Games. At how popular he would be and at how much respect he would gain, now all he could think was, _you're such an idiot, Nicholas James. Why would you ever do such a thing. You're going to get killed, more likely than not._

But Nick did not have a choice. Lexus was already calling out the next name.

"Lilley Silver."

Down below, from the sixteen-year-old females section, Shimmer Silver paled considerably, before she remembered that she was going to Volunteer anyway and felt a wave of relief.

Something had been telling her all along not to Volunteer just yet. To wait until the end, just to be sure. And it was a good thing she had. Because if Shimmer had Volunteered right away, Lilley would have been reaped and there might not have been a Volunteer.

Shimmer said the magic words, "I Volunteer as tribute," with excitement and confidence, and watched the look of morbid shock leave her little sister's face, only to return again, when she realized who had Volunteered.

Shimmer had not yet told Lilley that she would be Volunteering that year, and she waved at her little sister over in the twelve-year-old females section, smiling reassuringly, as if to say, "don't worry. I've got this in the bag."

Shimmer was popular, even with kids older than her. She thought some of the District 1 tributes so far would be her friends, but apparently not. She'd just have to wait for someone cool to talk to. She used to not mind Sequin Lotus all too much, but now she could hardly stand the little whore.

And those boys, forget about it.

Shimmer spotted Nicholas James, the boy who had burped in her face, in the row of District 1 tributes, and gave him a look of malice after telling Lexus her name sweetly and smiling at the crowd.

Lexus reached for the next name. "Twinkle Shineston," she said clearly.

Twinkle was a silly sixteen-year-old with no interest in the Games.

Tessa sighed. If she was going to Volunteer she would really rather take away the privilege of going to the Games from someone else who wanted it, but she figured that if she and Bryce didn't Volunteer soon, they would never get a chance to.

Tessa tapped Bryce on the shoulder, the signal that she was going to Volunteer, and he should do so for the next one.

"I Volunteer as tribute!" she sang happily.

Bryce soon followed Tessa, and Lexus rang with glee at the twins both Volunteering.

"Nate Brenner," was the next one called. But this time, no one Volunteered. Nate waited, hoping that he would get lucky and there would be a Volunteer, but there wasn't and he swallowed the lump in his throat and walked up to the stage. Nate didn't know if he was going to make it out of the arena alive. But no matter what he would do whatever he could to help his team.

The next tribute called for District 1 was "Shine Lancast." No one Volunteered for Shine. Who would Volunteer for Shine Lancast even if they were originally planning on it? Shine was a loser in this district. Nobody liked him. They would be happy to see him die a painful death. And from the looks of Bryce, who was now seething at Shine and cracking his knuckles menacingly, Bryce Hart wanted to be the one to finish Shine off himself.

Bronze had been waiting as one by one the tributes were called and, in most cases, the Volunteers took their places. He had purposefully been waiting for the end. For the eleventh and final District 1tribute to be reaped before he Volunteered.

Bronze wanted to make a lasting impression, and what better way to do so than by being the last Volunteer from his district? Besides, he didn't want his awesomeness to be upstaged by later Volunteers. Surely the last would get the most glory.

The only disappointment was that there were only three female tributes and seven other males. Bronze thought that the girls would be able to appreciate his hotness more than the guys, but what could he do? Even he, Bronze Tyce, God's gift to earth couldn't change people's genders.

When the final tribute's name was called, Bronze said the two magic words, "I Volunteer," and whipped his sunglasses off for just a split second, before replacing them on his nose and informing Lexus and the rest of the district about his assured victory.

**District 2**

**Annastasia Marie, Danielle Rose, and Carter Ryan Karma**

"Annie! Annie! Annie! Caden! Dani!"

"What? What's going on, Lucy?"

Lucy was the youngest child of the Karma family, and she had a special gift like most members of their family; Lucy could talk to the dead. Mostly with past peacekeepers, and Annie could tell from the tone of her voice that she wanted to inform them of something she had found out from this.

Caden Jackson was the oldest child at twenty. Then came Annastasia Marie at eighteen. Caden and Annie had been taking care of the family ever since their father died and their mother moved to the Capitol to become a stylist.

Then came Danielle Rose, or "Dani," who was sixteen, Carter Ryan who was twelve. The twins Emily Linda and Evan Daniel who were eight, and finally four year old Lucy Diamond.

Annie, Dani, and Carter also had special gifts. Annie could manipulate ice, Dani fire, and Carter the earth.

Lucy was panicked and out of breath. "The peacekeepers. they, they say that one of the Karmas is gonna be reaped this year because they rigged the bowl so that the Capitol can see the 'intusive Karma family'"

"What? What Lucy, do you mean the _elusive _Karma family."

"Yeah! that!"

"Oh no. This is not good." Annie was nervous. If Lucy was right, then either she, Dani, or Carter were going to be reaped as they were the only ones of reaping age. If Dani or Carter was reaped she would Volunteer for them of course. She was glad that this year there were no set gender rules for the reapings. She felt safe knowing that she could Volunteer for either of her siblings.

"Thanks, Lucy, sweetie. You want to go wake up everyone else?" Lucy always woke up early. She liked to go out and converse with the dead which they all found extremely creepy, but got used to after a while.

Annie knew what Lucy was talking about when she said (or tried to say) "the elusive Karma family." When Lucy was very little, the family had taken a trip to visit their relatives in District 5 (they had family in every district) and on their way back to 2, when in the outskirts of 5, a reactor blew and the force of the radiation had somehow given them their powers. Annie was not quite sure how it had worked exactly, but she did know that now she and her siblings had powers that they had not had before.

The twins, Evan and Emily came downstairs yawning, followed shortly after by Carter and Dani.

"Well, it's reaping day again."

Annie grasped Dani's hand. "We should be okay." Lie. "And we'll always stick together and be there for each other no matter what." Truth.

"I know," whispered the younger girl. "It's just . . . Carter. It's his first reaping and he's so young. I'm worried for him. What if Carter's reaped and no one Volunteered. There's a lot of tributes this year, there won't necessarily be enough Volunteers."

"Don't worry about it, Dani. If either you, or Carter is reaped, I'm going to Volunteer for you. I can this year, and I've already decided that I will."

"We have to go, guys," said their older brother, Caden. It's going to be time for the reapings soon."

Dani nodded, wiping away her tears and gave Annie one final hug. Caden hoisted Lucy up onto his shoulders and they proceeded to the reapings.

**Storm and Snow Forene**

The Forene twins were training to no end. It was reaping day. The day they were both going to Volunteer, and they were both hoping to get some last minute training in.

Storm was admiring his favorite weapon: a lance, or, un-throw-able spear. He could use any weapon, really. How would he not be able to after the years and years of training? But the lance was the best. He felt so powerful with it. It kills well, but Storm preferred to use it for more defensive purposes, such as parrying, blocking, or stunning the enemy.

Snow, on the other hand, favored a dual katana; a small thin sword that was light and easily held in just one hand. She pushed her long black hair over her shoulder as she viciously slashed at a dummy with her dual katana.

Both Snow and Storm were very pale from being stuck inside more than a child normally should.

They've spent most of their time training to Volunteer for the Hunger Games, or else studying to maintain their grades of straight A+'s, never having time for friends or fun. Not that either one of them had any friends anyway.

Storm was supposed to Volunteer this year, and Snow next year, but Snow had decided that because this year more than one tribute can come out of the arena alive, she was going to Volunteer too, to be with her brother at all times, and hopefully win with him.

She could not tell how Storm felt about this. Usually she could sense how he was feeling, but not about this. She assumed he would be happy. She would be happy after all, if the roles were reversed.

"Snow. Storm." Their parents both entered the room.

"Excellent work," their father spoke approvingly. Snow beamed. Father's compliments were hard to come by, but she knew that he was proud of what she and Storm had achieved.

Snow was excited for the Games. She wanted to kill. Wanted to be on a team with Storm and get them both out of the arena alive to make Father and Mother proud.

"Thank you, Father," said Storm with an impatient scowl.

"Everyone to the reapings," Mother commanded. "We'd better be there early to get a good spot if you're both planning on Volunteering." Her tine was curt.

**Julius Medicus**

Julius was surrounded by his usual huddle of laughing friends. He would miss them (well, some of them anyway) when he Volunteered that year, but he had to do it.

Both of Julius's older sisters had entered the Games as Careers and died, and a lot of pressure was weighing on his shoulders from his parents to Volunteer and win unlike his sisters.

"You excited, Julius?" asked one boy he was good friends with, Granite Liske.

Julius was going to miss Granite during his time in the Games. Granite was a good friend. He'd see him and the others when he got home though. Granite was going to get home, that much he knew.

"Definitely." Julius had just told his friends that he would be Volunteering that year and they were all buzzing with excitement and worry.

"I know you can do it, Julius," cooed one girl, who Julius did not even know the name of, staring fondly into his bright green eyes.

"Thanks, I know."

The reapings were going to start soon, and if Julius wanted to get his whole gang there on time so that they could find spots to stand together.

"We should be going," Julius suggested.

The others all followed.

**Branwen Micah Radke**

Brandy finished swimming her daily laps in the lake by her house, and wrapped a towel around her dripping blond hair. Another reaping day had come again. Brandy just didn't get it! How could it be that so many people in her district found the Games pleasurable? She certainly didn't!

Branwen proceeded to gathering a few carrots and berries and feeding them to the surrounding animals. The rabbits gobbled them up quickly.

Branwen loved animals. She truly did. They were just so sweet and innocent and pure. Basically the opposite of most people in her district. And, of course, the Capitol.

She did not like the Hunger Games one bit. And this year it would be even worse than normal: this year, a total of _thirteen_ tributes would be entering the arena from District 2. They would be divided into ten teams of ten and the last team standing, be it with one remaining tribute or all ten, that team would be crowned the winner. Each member of that team will be considered a Victor, and the highest ranking remaining member of the team will be considered the Ultimate Victor, and will have wealth, fame, and glory beyond whatever any Victor has ever had and far far beyond their wildest dream.

Branwen supposed that there would be a lot of Volunteers from her district this year going for that title.

She shook her head. It just didn't make any sense!

**Alissi Zane**

It was Alissi's last day in DIstrict 2 before she returned as the Ultimate Victor, and she was determined to make the most of it.

Al planned on parading through the district, boasting of her future achievement and teasing some weaker kids. She might even decide to get some last minute training in before the reapings, not that she needed it at all.

Al could hardly wait for the Games to end. Yes, of course she knew that they hadn't even started yet, but she was really looking forward to the great life she would have as a Victor. And not just any Victor; the Victor of all Victors; the _Ultimate _Victor.

And Alissi had first hand experience as to how glamorous and luxurious the life of a Victor was, because her mother had won the Games years ago, earning the family a life of complete luxury and a home in the Victor's Village.

She was used to getting whatever she wanted right when she asked for it; even Alissi had to admit, her parents went a bit overboard on giving in to her desires, some might even call her spoiled.

But Alissi loved her family very much. And she could not wait to make her parents proud! Especially her mother. She would be the second link in the chain of victories of the woman in her family. She was special. She was important.

And now she had to just make sure everyone else knew that.

**Lucille and Evangeline Mason**

As Luce's mother hugged her good morning and good luck at the reapings, she found herself zoning out slightly. For a moment, she envisioned herself Volunteering for the one thousandth Hunger Games, and maybe even winning. She could be the Ultimate Victor if she tried hard enough!

Then Lucille caught the eye of her twin sister, Evangeline, or Evie, and shook the thought out of her brain.

Why would she think something like that? Luce didn't have nearly as much training as most of her district who were all Career tributes, and would probably end up dead. Then what would happen? Evie would be heartbroken, Luce knew she would. Luce and Evie balanced each other out: Lucille was bubbly, but moody, and seemed a bit insane at times, and Evie was almost the complete opposite: quiet, helpful, and sweet. So, how could Lucille even begin to think about Volunteering for the Hunger Games? Who did she think she was?

Luce mentally scolded herself for her own stupidity, before bidding a good morning to her little brothers Max, who was fourteen, and Benjamin, who was just twelve. Luce and Evie both knew that Benjamin was worried about his first reaping this year, and Evie gave him a reassuring smile.

Mr. Mason was not able to be home that day. Of course he would be able to get away from work to come to the reapings themselves, as they were mandatory, but he was hardly ever actually home. The girls knew that their younger brothers looked up to their dad, and it would make Benjamin feel better to have him be there before the actual reapings on his first year, but there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Mrs. Mason gave Benjamin's hand a squeeze. "It's okay, baby. The girls and Max will tell you. You won't be reaped this year. You have nothing to worry about."

Benjamin did not speak, nor did any of his family members, and Mrs. Mason broke the uncomfortable silence to tell Luce and Evie that she had laid out matching red minidresses for them that she thought would be cute for them to wear to the reapings.

Evie gave her mother a kind smile of thanks, and Lucille said nothing as she towed her sister upstairs to get dressed.

**Artemis Marble**

"Get back in here, girl!"

Artemis knew who was calling her. She chose not to respond however. It was her step-father, Brick. He disgusted her. The only two activities he enjoyed were drinking and hitting Artemis and she tried to steer clear of him as much as possible.

Brick came out into the yard where Artemis had taken refuge, and locked his beady black eyes with her cold, stony gray ones.

"Why?" she countered. "So that you can hit me with your empty beer bottle?"

"That's-"

"Forget it."

Artemis stood up and ran as fast as she could, desperate to get away from Brick, even though she could tell that he was not following her.

Artemis headed towards her training center for a moment, just to check in with her training leader. Her training leader had told her that she was to Volunteer this year, and Artemis just wanted to double check to make sure that there had not been a change of plans. She crossed her fingers, hoping that there was not; excited for the thrill of the kill and thirsty for the blood of the weak tributes.

After confirming that this was, indeed, her year to Volunteer, Artemis swiftly fled the training center, but not before making a remark to every tribute in training she passed.

"Nice throw," she snorted, to a little girl, who was clearly new to throwing knives and had just thrown one way off the target.

"Thanks!" said the girl. "It was my very first try, and I think I'm doing pretty good for just starting out."

Artemis rolled her eyes. "Don't you understand the word _sarcasm_?" she snapped.

The small girl burst into tears, and Artemis sneered.

"Cool shirt," she muttered to a boy with a huge slash down the front of his shirt, and to a frizzy haired girl, "were you just struck by lightning this morning, or is your hair naturally this ugly?"

Artemis quickly checked her reflection in the mirror at the back of the training center and admired her long and straight, beautiful coppery locks of hair. She was wearing a strapless white shirt tucked into navy skinny jeans, and brown combat boots. She pulled out a ponytail holder and twisted her hair into a ballet bun before exiting the training center and calling out to a chunky, timid-looking boy who crossed paths with her as he walked in and she out, "lovely boobs you have." Causing him to blush and immediately look down at his chest.

Artemis laughed. Ah, the joy of making people's lives miserable, a tiny bit at a time.

**Amber Fox**

"Remember Amber, don't listen to what anyone else says. You are the most beautiful girl in the world to me and Dad, and nothing can ever change that." Amber just nodded, not really paying attention.

Amber's mother was giving her another one of those "you're-beautiful-no-matter-what-everyone-else-says speeches. Amber really _was _beautiful, and everyone knew it too. That wasn't the problem.

She was popular too. She had a lot of friends. But Amber was called names by those very friends like Black Beauty because of her black skin.

Amber was adopted. Her adoptive parents names were Alexa and Jared Fields, and she loved them very much, truly she did. But she had always longed to meet her biological parents, though they were probably dead.

"You got that Amber, sweetheart."

"Mmm hmm," said Amber, "thanks, Mom. I'm glad I can always count on you to be there for me."

"Of course. You're my daughter, and I love you more than anything. You know that right?"

Amber smiled. "Of course I know that, Mom."

"Great."

Amber and her mother embraced warmly before releasing each other.

"I think I'm going to go hang out with some friends a little bit before the reapings if you don't mind, Mom."

"Of course darling, just make sure there's nothing racist going on."

Amber rolled her eyes. Sometimes she wondered why she would ever go to her mom with her problems. Alexa Fields had a real knack for blowing things out of proportion. Especially when it came to her daughter.

"Don't worry, Mom. I'll be fine. And I'll be back before the reapings."

"Alrighty then, have fun, sweetheart."

"Thanks." Amber smiled before going off to find some of her friends.

"Wait." Amber whipped around to face her mother, "how about that new pair of shoes you promised me?" Amber thought she more than deserved it, after putting up with another of of her mother's pep talks.

Mrs. Fields did a double take, clearly caught by surprise, "oh, right. Yes, Amber, I'll make sure to get those for you soon. How about we go right after the reapings?"

Amber grinned slyly and crossed the threshold. Lovely. She would definitely be able to weasel more than just one measly pair of shoes out of this.

**Kat Powers**

Kat was finally able to relax for once that day. She was sitting in her favorite spot in the whole district; one that was hard to come by with her favorite object in the entire world.

She was under a beech tree with an ancient device that played music (she had done some research, and figured out that it was called an iPod). She let the beautiful and heartwarming sounds of the music and inspirational lyrics flow into her ears and felt herself instantly calming.

The tree was near one of the most popular training centers of District 2, and, as many Careers-in-training passed her to head there, they scoffed at her; according to their opinions, their was something seriously wrong with a talented fighter like Kat sitting under a tree and fiddling with a piece of ancient junk.

They just didn't understand the true beauty and purity of music.

It wasn't that Kat didn't like the Games, she liked them a lot, and trained hard. But Volunteering wasn't exactly her life's dream. She was a firm believer that her music and family were much more important, and she would never give up either of those things for anything. Voluntarily that is. But this year she would pretty much have to: both of Kat's parents were Victors of the Hunger Games, and since her very first reaping, her parents have both been pushing her hard to Volunteer. This year, Kat decided that she couldn't take it anymore, and this was her second-to-last chance to Volunteer, if she didn't do it soon, who knows what kind of family fights could break out (there were already some arguments going on) that she could never fix being over reaping age. So she was just going to do it. Kat was just going to be brave, and, for her parents' sake, Volunteer to be one of the tributes of the one thousandth Hunger Games for District 2.

All of a sudden, Kat's attention was snapped up by the tall girl she knew all too well who was now exiting the close by training center.

Artemis Marble gave Kat a sly grin and cackled like a high-pitched hyena. "Great use of your time, Powers. Sitting around like the unwanted little weirdo you are, and trying to get the attention of Career boys by sitting here and listening to your old-fashioned toy."

If Kat had just met Artemis, she would have been extremely offended. But the two girls had known each other for quite some time, and Kat was already used to her bitchy snide comments. And, to be honest, Kat didn't really care very much what Artemis thought.

Kat was pretty, with her long wavy brown hair and sweet blue eyes, no matter what Artemis Marble had told her in the past. And she would make a good tribute, too, no matter what Artemis said.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Artemis. But we both know that you're just jealous because the training instructor complimented me before you. Nice try though."

And with that, Kat picked herself up and walked away, bringing her iPod with her, and leaving Artemis to stand around for a split second, before shrugging it off and walking away.

**Reaping**

Scores of citizens filed into the town square for the reaping. Their escort, Flatyn Lynxe had his unblinking eyes opened wide, and his permanent smile plastered upon his face.

"Welcome, welcome to the reapings of the most exciting Hunger Games in the history of Panem!" District 2 cheered as Flatyn spoke in a thick Capitol accent. "Today we are going to choose thirteen tributes to compete in the Hunger Games. Hopefully, District 2, the district that is already the most glorified, will produce this year's Ultimate Victor and go down in history as the greatest district of all time."

The people cheered once more.

"Now, I'm going to start us off with our first tribute of the day," Flatyn reached into the large bowl that now contained the names of both the male and female children of reaping age and pulled out the first slip of paper.

It read, "Mason Hedge,"

"I Volunteer as tribute."

Julius was the first Volunteer of the day, over from the seventeen-year-old males section, and his large group of friends cheered him on as he confidently strode onto the stage.

"And what is your name, my dear boy."

"Julius Medicus," Julius enunciated clearly. "Your future Ultimate Victor."

His friends all cheered and chanted his name, before Flatyn quieted them down, "marvelous. Our first Volunteer of the day. Let's proceed with the next name."

"Amber Fox."

It was the demanding, prissy girl who everyone knew. No one Volunteered for Amber Fox to her dismay. There would be many more tributes called anyway for them to Volunteer for.

Storm figured he ought to do it for the next tribute called. He nodded to Snow and she got the message. He was going to Volunteer for the next one. Judging by the impatient looks on both of his parents' faces, it was about time he did it, or they would think he was weak.

At the next name, Storm raised his voice, "I Volunteer," he said simply, relieved at the approving look his father was giving him. Storm could've sworn he even saw the man flash a tiny glint of a smile when Snow did the same.

Flatyn dramatically swooned as he reached for the next name, as if he knew what was coming next. From the eighteen-year-old females section, Annie Karma felt something too. And then she knew it. She knew that, somehow, the reaping bowl had been rigged. Especially when the name was called.

"Danielle Rose Karma."

All seven of the Karma children froze. Even little Lucy Diamond knew that this was not good. Heck, she had predicted it.

What was going on? Why was no one Volunteering? This was District 2, after all, there should be a Volunteer!

But there wasn't. At least not one that seemed to be interested in Volunteering any time soon. Annie knew what she had to do, "I Volunteer!" she screamed fiercely, still shaking with fear at the shock of Dani being reaped.

"And what is your name, my dear?" asked Flatyn.

"A-Annastasia Marie Karma."

"My, my, how lovely is this! I'd wager my waffles that that was your dear sister over there."

"Yes," said Annie simply.

"Well. That is certainly refreshing, Annastasia. It's not often that District 2 gets Volunteers for this reason you know."

"I know," Annie was finally able to relax for a moment and calmed down a bit to smile at the audience, especially her siblings who were all crying in a huddle before her. She willed them all to stay strong.

Annie locked eyes with Dani, and the latter just shook her head before breaking the eye contact and avoiding Annie's gaze until the next name was called.

"I Volunteer," said a voice, all too familiar to Annastasia Karma before Flatyn even had a chance to read out the next name.

"My name is Danielle Rose Karma, and I Volunteer as tribute for the one-thousandth Hunger Games."

The whole district was silent.

Was Dani even _allowed _to participate in the Games?

According to Flatyn, there was no rule against a tribute who was reaped, but had a Volunteer for them, then Volunteering for another tribute.

Annie felt like slapping her sister. She had Volunteered for Dani for a reason: to save her little sister, not to be killed along with her.

But before she could say anything, or do anything, another familiar voice was Volunteering.

He had broken out of the restraint his older brother, Caden had been holding on him and marched up to the stage.

"My name is Carter Ryan Karma," he stated simply, before running into Annie's arms.

Annie wanted to tell him off. To scold them both. But right now, they just needed comforting. And they couldn't take back what they'd done. It wasn't every man for himself this year. With any luck, all three Karma siblings would make it out of the arena alive.

"I Volunteer as tribute," called a cold, cruel voice, before the next name was even read.

Artemis Marble looked down at the audience as she spoke to them and Flatyn. "I, Artemis Marble, future Ultimate Victor of Panem, am proud to represent District 2 in the thousandth annual Hunger Games!"

She rolled her eyes at Flatyn as he welcomed her, but he did not seem to notice.

The next Volunteer was Alissi Zane, determined, like Artemis, to win. Alissi was hoping to follow in the footsteps of her mother, a previous Victor of the Hunger Games.

Again, from the seventeen-year-old females section, "Lucille Mason," was reaped. No one Volunteered. It seemed as though everyone who was planning on Volunteering had already done so.

Lucille froze. She found it quite ironic, how just this morning she had been contemplating Volunteering and going to the Games, and now, here she was, being forced into it.

Luce did not say a word as she trudged up to the stage in fear.

The next name called made everyone gasp: "Evangeline Mason."

Evie, who had already been tear-stricken for her sister, cried out once more.

Annie Karma, from up on the stage, felt her eyes grow wide. What if the bowl had, for some reason, been rigged not only so that one of the Karma's would be reaped, but for this family too? That seemed like the only logical explanation for both Mason twins being reaped, one after the other.

"Branwen Micah Radke." Brandy paled momentarily at the sound of her name. Then, relaxed for the cameras, pushing back her shoulders and faking a smile as she met Flatyn on the stage.

And, finally, was Kat Powers. She was a Volunteer. And, as Flatyn congratulated Kat and gave her a warm welcome, Lucille Mason felt a surge of anger at the fact that Kat had Volunteered last to enter the arena instead of some knobby-kneed thirteen-year-old, rather than instead of Luce or Evie. Luce knew that Kat was planning on Volunteering anyway, and she just didn't understand why it had to be last.

She sighed. There was nothing she could do about it now, and Flatyn told all of the tributes to shake hands, announcing all of their names to the crowd.

**District 3**

**Azura Night**

The music blasted in Azura's ears and her bright, shiny red hair bounced up and down as she skipped around her party.

Azura was only twelve, but she often threw parties for the whole district, which older teenagers loved attending too. It was mere hours to the reaping, but Azura's parents and grandmother weren't home, and she had thrown together this party in honor of . . . she didn't really know what. Azura just liked throwing parties.

She stopped for a moment to dip a marshmallow into the chocolate fountain and take a bite out of it. Delicious. The rich chocolate filled her mouth and she felt the smooth texture of marshmallow flowing down her throat.

Azura wanted to enjoy herself. She was only hours away from her very first reaping, and who knows what could happen. There was a possibility that Azura would get reaped. Or that her twin sister, Azora, would.

And speak of the devil, Azora came up beside Azura. As usual, her nose was stuck in a book.

"Azura, I think we'd better get this party cleaned up soon, it's almost the reapings."

"Oh, come on, Zora, don't be such a party pooper! We're having so much fun!"

Azura waved good-bye to Pierce Lockwood, an older boy who was leaving the party with a huge grin on his face.

"Bye, Azura! Great party!" he called.

"See, Zora," Azura put her hand on her hip and Azora rolled her eyes. "Pierce had so much fun, and so is everyone else."

"Yes, Azura, but he left for a reason. The reapings are going to start in just a few hours' time, and we want to get ready."

Azura let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Alright, fine. But just admit it, Azora, you were having fun too."

"Fine. I admit it," Azora said after a while, and Azura smirked. She knew she had seen her twin sister dancing along to her favorite song and even looking at her long time crush, Cable Harren.

"Okay, okay, let's get this party cleaned up."

By the time Azura and Azora had ushered everyone out of the party, and gotten rid of all of the garbage, (they throw it over their fence to their neighbor, a trash-collector who, for reasons unknown to Azura, makes a lot of money off of it; they have been using this method for ages) Azura and Azora's parents were arriving home, shortly followed by their grandmother.

"Do we have time to learn a new move before the reapings, Grandma?" Azura asked hopefully. Grandma Brooklyn was a cheerleader when she was younger, and she had been teaching Azura many of her routines and gymnastics moves.

"Well _I _wouldn't mind, Azura dear," Grandma Brooklyn dropped her voice to a whisper, "but I don't think your father would be too happy with me doing that so close to the reapings. No, I think for now you and Azora should just go get dressed. Your mother laid out outfits for you.

Azura went upstairs, disappointed but quickly shook it off. She would have plenty more time for Grandma to teach her gymnastics after the reapings.

Azura came back down now dressed in a sparkly pink knee length dress, with her red hair tied in pigtails. Azora, Azura saw, was already downstairs in an identical outfit, except with a navy blue dress rather than a light pink one.

"Ready to go, girls?" asked Azura's father, clearly getting nervous about being late to their very first reaping that they will be of age.

"Don't worry, Dad," said Azura soothingly. "We're going to be fine."

Once Azura, Azora, and the three adults had scrambled into the car, Azura's father relaxed slightly, though, he still appeared to be worried about his daughters' first reaping.

**Onyx Black**

Onyx didn't go to Azura Night's party that day. The whole district had been invited, Onyx had simply not felt like going.

How could she go celebrate on reaping day? The day that two people from her district were going to be taken into the arena to be slaughtered.

She was wearing a plain black t-shirt and trousers along with her combat boots. It wasn't exactly a day that she felt like getting dressed up on.

Onyx was standing in front of her bedroom mirror; blue-black hair, mercury gray eyes, porcelain skin. Same as always. So why did today it feel . . . different?

Onyx knew the answer to that question: it was because it was reaping day. And reaping day made everything different. Uglier.

Onyx ran her right pointer finger down the scar on her left ring finger. She had had it ever since she was four and dropped a soldering iron on it.

"Onyx!" her father called from downstairs. "Reapings! Time to go!"

**Thatcher Corrs**

"Thatcher! Where are you?"

"Coming, Grandmother."

Thatcher ran his hand through his cropped blond hair and blinked his dark green eyes before complying, and rushing into the kitchen where his grandmother was calling for him.

Thatcher had lived with his grandmother ever since his parents had died when he was seven.

"Thatcher, today's the day of your first reaping."

Thatcher nodded. He did not really need much reminding.

"I just- I just want you to know, Thatcher, that-" Grandmother's voice cracked a little bit, but her eyes did not stray from his, "-that your parents love you more than anything. And that they would be so proud, Thatcher, of the wonderful young gentleman you've become."

Thatcher gave Grandmother a sad smile and embraced her warmly.

"I know. Thanks."

**Tilde Shay**

Tilde tied her inky black hair back in a ponytail. As usual, it was messy and thick and did not want to cooperate with Tilde and lay flat like it was supposed to. She rubbed her almond-shaped eyes, still not fully woken up before proceeding to her closet in the hopes of finding something that would make her seem like there was at least _something _good going for her body.

Tilde's father was one of the best inventors in all of District 3, thus, Tilde did not have to live in poverty like some citizens of District 3.

Tilde's mother was a teacher at her school. And, though sometimes (well, a lot of the time really) it was incredibly embarrassing, Tilde really did love her mother and was glad that she was able to be so close to her all day.

Tilde's three younger siblings were running all over the place downstairs, where Tilde joined them.

Rosie, the seven-year-old, was not getting involved in her little siblings' fight, trying to act like the big girl, whereas the twins, Spark and Grace, were in an all-out brawl (or at least as all out as a brawl between two five-year-olds can be) Spark was pulling at Grace's hair, and Grace had her teeth bared, as if ready to bite Spark.

Tilde chose to ignore them. Spark and Grace were always going at each other; it was nothing new. It was just a faze that they were going through.

Tilde decided to visit her older brother Griffin. Both of Tilde's older brothers were already married and moved out of the house. Tilde was still very close to them, though.

When she arrived down the street after a nice long stroll through District 3, Tilde was delighted to find not only Griffin and his wife, but also her other brother Harris who, evidently had come to visit as well.

"Hey Tilde!" Griffin greeted her warmly. "I guess you're the only Shay in the reaping bowl this year, huh?" Harris had just celebrated his nineteenth birthday, rendering him free from the Hunger Games for the rest of his life.

Tilde shrugged, "guess so."

"Thanks for stopping by, Tilde," Griffin said, "but Mom always gets nervous on reaping day, won't she want you at home?"

Tilde shrugged once again, "probably. I'll see you soon, guys." Tilde gave each of her older brothers a tight hug, and proceeded back through the doorway, hearing it click behind her.

It was true: Tilde's mother _did_ have a tendency to worry more than the average woman should; especially on reaping day. But Tilde just did not feel like going back home just yet.

Maybe she should call Ana-Marie and Lilith, her best friends from school. Yes, what a perfect idea. Before Tilde's first reaping as the only one of her siblings with her name in the reaping bowl, she really needed some girl time with Ana-Marie and Lilith to gossip about boys and set up shopping trips. Her two favorite things! And, of course, they could throw some gossip about others in the school also . . . it wasn't just strictly limited to hot boys.

Yes, what a great idea. Tilde would have to contact them immediately.

**Kali Astra Hailstorm**

"Where'd you get that hat, your dead grandmother's casket?" Kali asked Grenna Baler, a girl two years younger than her, whom she happened to run into on her way to the butcher shop at which her brothers worked and whom she knew from school.

The hat really was ugly. Kali did not know what had been going through this girl's mind when she got dressed in the morning: it was a poop brown Fedora hat with two green feathers sticking out on either side.

And Kali had had reason to insult this girl far beyond just the hat, reasons from her appearance to her personality to her annoying squeaky voice and everything in between. The shy, self conscious girl had messy brown curls flying all over the place and was a little on the chunky side. Her fat cheeks were constantly filling with color and her smile was a little too eager for Kali's taste.

Kali's own eyes were a light mint green and she had long subtle curls of red-gold for her hair. Okay, so maybe her hair was messed up most of the time, like Grenna's. Or all of the time. But that wasn't the point . . . the point was, that Grenna also hardly ever said anything; Kali thought she spent most of her time crying.

Grenna's eyes were filling with tears; Kali could tell. Why did the little girl have to be so damn sensitive? Kali was just stating her opinion for Heaven's sake!

"Hey, what are you getting up to there, little sis,"

It was a voice Kali would recognize anywhere, and, she whipped around to face her brother, Cleon Hailstorm, leaning against the wall right behind her.

"What are you doing here, Cleon?" Kali demanded. "Aren't you and Fenris supposed to be working at the butcher shop now?"

Cleon shrugged. "Supposed to? Yes. But when have the Hailstorm children ever followe the rules?"

Kali smirked, "good point, big bro. Where's Fenris?" Kali looked around behind Cleon, hoping for a glimpse of his twin brother.

"Sorry, Kals, you probably won't be able to see him before the reaping; we couldn't _both _leave work without Mr. Tanaberry noticing, now could we?"

"No, I guess not. Well, I'll see you around, Cleon."

To be honest, Kali wanted to get back to tormenting Grenna.

"Can do. Bye Kals," Cleon threw an arm around Kali's shoulder and squeezed her tightly. "And may the odds be _ever _in your favor," he whispered chillingly in her ear, causing her to laugh.

Cleon went back to work at the butcher shop. But when Kali turned back, Grenna was gone.

**Athena Blue**

"I'm gonna need those fries for table twelve, Athena."

"Of course." Athena grinned. She had never felt more free and alive then when her best friend, Skip had gotten her this job as a waitress at this teenage clubhouse. She bounced around from the kitchen to the table, serving the customers with a smile on her face the whole time. She felt so independent and grown up, making money all by herself.

Athena's Dad was the mayor of District 3, so, growing up she had had everything handed to her. Now, for some girls, that would be great. But those girls obviously are not Athena Blue.

As a little girl, Athena had wanted nothing more than to be able to get out of the house, make some new friends, and go on some great adventures.

But Athena had been home schooled and thus never had the opportunity to make friends at school.

But then, one marvelous day, Athena had been outside for a leaf project, and she met this guy named Skip Ryden. She found his messy black hair and warm brown eyes quite endearing, and, Skip had brought Athena into the real world, even getting her this job at the clubhouse.

Athena loved her father. And, maybe she would not have been so longing to get away from the family mansion if he was ever with her in it. But he wasn't. Mr. Blue was incredibly busy as the mayor, and did not have much time to spend with Athena.

Athena was confused about Skip. She had overheard him saying to another guy that he had introduced her to that she was hot. But Athena was confused about how she felt about him. She loved him for everything he had done for her . . . but just as a friend and nothing more. She just wasn't sure how to tell him that. Especially because he didn't even know that she knew that he liked her.

"Athena, do you have that order for me?" Athena's boss was getting antsy, and she figured she'd better hurry up with her service.

Athena flipped her bright blond hair over her shoulder and gave her newest costumers a vibrant smile; flashing her bright, mischievous green eyes in a mysterious but cute fashion.

"What can I get for you?" she asked brightly.

While taking her customers' order, Athena reflected on her past memories with Skip: he had given her junk food to eat that she was not allowed at home. He had taken her to a very dramatic and sad movie, where the two had sat laughing the whole time and throwing candy at other audience members.

Athena beamed. She loved her life. Though, as she twirled a piece of hair around her pointer finger, she thought of the matching bright blond hair that had once belonged to her mother.

Savannah Blue, Athena's mother, had worked in a factory in the district, when, suddenly, the power went off. She stepped back in the dark, and her foot landed on a ripped wire in a wet puddle. She had been electrocuted.

Athena put the smile back on her face. She should be enjoying and having fun, not thinking about things that cannot be changed.

**Claire Redfield**

Claire was sitting down on a field of grass reflecting on her life. About a year ago, she found out that she had a blood clot in her brain that was mere inches away from aneurysm. When the aneurysm does occur, Claire will die. And she was slowly, little by little getting closer to that point every day. She was incredibly grateful that it had not yet happened, though.

Claire had never let anything stop her: least of all the blood clot. She had still become the head cheerleader at her school, and gone snowboarding with her family. She was so glad that she was able to do all of that.

Claire suddenly noticed that there was another person in the field she had been sitting in. He was a little boy, a lot younger than Claire it seemed, and he appeared to have fallen down. He was red in the face, with his blond hair flying all over the place, and scrambling to collect all the the books strewn around him that he must have dropped.

Claire smiled sweetly at the boy, "hi honey, it's okay, I dropped my books all the time when I was your age."

The little boy only blushed more furiously at that.

Claire laughed. "Do you need help carrying those?"

The boy hesitated for a moment. Claire could tell that the stack of books was far too high for his little body to hold, but he seemed very shy.

Eventually, the boy nodded.

Claire smiled and took a good chunk of the heavy books from the boy. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Luke," said the boy in a small voice.

"I have a brother named Luke," Claire said with a smile. With a pang, Claire thought of the other Luke she knew, besides her brother, and now this cute little boy. Her ex-boyfriend. Claire knew that Luke, her ex-boyfriend, still loved her, and she had felt horrible breaking up with him. But she had had to do it. She thought that he thought differently of her after finding out about the blood clot, and Claire just couldn't be with someone who was going to think differently about her over something like that.

"My name is Claire," said Claire, earning a smile from Luke.

Unfortunately, just as Luke began showing Claire the way to his house, her little band of Prince Charmings seemed to spot her.

Ever since the news of Claire's blood clot had been released, a lot of the boys whom she went to school with had decided that she was incapable of doing anything for herself, and insisted on doing every single little thing that involved any physical labor whatsoever for her.

And, even more unfortunately, Claire's brain chose that moment to pain her with one of her sporadic aching headaches. The headaches were a side effect of the blood clot, and were really no big deal in Claire's opinion, but it was obvious that she was in pain when they came on, and this was a clear excuse for the Prince Charmings to take Claire's chance to help Luke away.

Claire didn't even bother listening when they finally reached her, and one of them stepped forward to talk. It would be futile anyway.

"Luke, I think I have to go now. But these, uh . . . friends of mine are going to help you. Is that okay?"

Luke nodded reluctantly, though it was clear to Claire that it was not okay, and he would most likely rather carry them himself than have the Charmings carry them for him. But he didn't say anything.

Claire gave Luke one more kind smile before turning on her heel to get back to her house where her family would most likely be waiting for her; Dad with a corny joke, Mom critical of the fact that Claire had not told her where she was going, but still loving and kind, and Luke and Brooke, her younger siblings, who would probably be in a fight over who got the bathroom to style their hair.

Claire grinned. She knew them so well.

**Pierce Lockwood**

Pierce was finally able to relax. He was laying flat on his back across the hot sand of his favorite beach, basking in the rays of sunlight which was being absorbed by the skin on bare muscled chest and his soft, spiky light brown hair.

Here Pierce did not have to worry about anything. He did not have to think about Nick, his much preferred younger brother, or his father criticizing his every move that's anything less than perfect. Nor did he even have to dwell for a second on the fact that he was never allowed to have a girlfriend, even though he wanted desperately to find love, because his father never approved of the girls he brought home.

All he had to do was treasure the precious hours he got to spend on the soft sand, and listen to the mockingjays mimicking his smooth deep voice when he let out an outburst of song.

Pierce loved singing; it felt so special and pure. He also played guitar, ukelele, and violin, it allowed him to do something he loved; something he was _actually _good at.

And, not only that, but Nick could never compare to Pierce when it came to music.

Pierce shifted positions slightly and smiled. He loved this beach. It was the only place he could go that felt truly . . . right.

**Cyb Cable**

"Hello, District 3 support, this is Cyb speaking."

Cyb spoke into the phone ever so politely to the idiot from the Capitol on the other end who was asking how to use some new invention of a District 3 citizen.

Cyb had been answering the phone for the support system since the age of twelve. He was currently sixteen. Cyb was shocked at the fact that he had already been working at in District 3 support for four years. It was a long time for a kid. He was proud of his work though, he thought in contributed to the fact that, though the Cables were not incredibly rich, neither he, nor his younger brother, Chip, had ever had to take Tessarae in order to feed the family.

Cyb gave a brief explanation to the Capitol citizen on how to use the appliance and hung up the phone.

Cyb rose to go notify his boss of his early departure from work that morning. Children of reaping age were supposed to get out of work early on reaping day to get to the reapings on time.

"Leaving all ready, Cable?" Cyb's boss, Mr. Hallifer questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," Cyb responded politely. "It's reaping day you see, and . . ." Cyb trailed off, there was not exactly a specific thing that he had to do, it was more simply that he was supposed to be let out early on reaping day.

"You're right, Cable. How could I forget?"

"Thank you, sir."

"You run along now, boy," said Hallifer with a ruffle of Cyb's light, bowl cut hair. "I'm expecting you bright and early here tomorrow morning though."

"Of course sir," Cyb smiled.

**Reaping**

"Welcome, District 3, to the 1000th annual Hunger Games!" District 3's escort, Veron Mares sniffed a little as all the children of reaping age settled into their positions by age and gender and the rest of the district filed into the town square.

After the usual speeches, the small, portly little man dressed all in black, but for his bright silver shoes with neon pink laces, gave a brief description of this year's newest twist, and proceeded straight to calling out the first name of the giant reaping bowl consisting of both the male and female names.

"Azura Night," called Veron.

Azura could feel her heart stop from where she was standing in the twelve-year-old females section, and dropped Azora's hand which she had been clinging to for her life.

She could not believe it. She, Azura, had just been reaped. Chosen to enter the arena and fight to the death with ninety-nine other tributes, during her very first reaping.

Taking deep, calming breaths, Azura slowly but surely walked up to the stage and took her place beside Veron.

"Hello, Azura. And, congratulations! Congratulations on being the first of nine District 3 tributes for the thousandth annual Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever _in your favor."

Azura forced a smile to emerge upon her lips as she thanked Veron.

Veron read out the next name. "Tilde Shay."

Tilde felt her mouth drop open. She had not even been paying attention to Veron or the reaping, she had been jabbering away with Ana-Marie and Lilith until Lilith, white in the face, tapped her on the shoulder and Tilde realized that she had been called.

Tilde was shocked and she could feel the shock registering on her face until Lilith tapped her once more, and Tilde quickly composed herself and marched up to the stage.

"Cyb Cable," was called next.

Cyb only felt one emotion. Fear. Blunt blind fear made the tears form in his eyes and made his knees wobble. And it was also that fear that caused him to try and reach the stage and, hopefully, seem strong for the sponsors. He supposed he wouldn't be seeing Mr. Hallifer bright and early the next morning like he had promised.

Veron reached for the next name from the large reaping bowl. "Wirina Sell."

It was a tiny, timid-looking twelve-year-old whose face was totally white with fear.

Onyx sighed from the thirteen-year-old females section down below. She had felt a pang when Azura was reaped; the poor little thing. But now another twelve-year-old had just been reaped, and Onyx didn't think that tiny little Wirina could ever possibly take care of herself in the arena.

Onyx was only thirteen, but the responsibility to protect this little girl, even one she barely knew, she felt, rested on her shoulders.

"I Volunteer," she stated.

All eyes turned to Onyx. "I said I Volunteer," she repeated, growing impatient.

Veron clapped animatedly. "How fantastimistic!" Onyx was not the biggest fan of men who made up words. There were plenty of perfectly good adjectives already in existence.

"And what is your name, doll."

"Onyx Black," Onyx said flatly.

"Well, welcome Onyx. Welcome, welcome. Can we have a round of applause for Onyx Black, District 3 Volunteer?"

The applause were hesitant. In 3, the general population was not very approving of Volunteering to win and get the glory, but Onyx scoffed at them. She knew that what she had done was right and she wasn't going to let them pretend that saving a little girl was not the right thing to do. She didn't need to explain her reasoning to everyone else. What did she care if they thought she just wanted the glory?

Veron proceeded with the next drawing. "Athena Blue."

Athena heard her name and it was as if it echoed through the entire town square. They all new that the mayor's daughter had just been reaped. And Mayor Blue was also frozen in shock from up on the stage, but there were no rules saying that a mayor's child could not be reaped.

Athena knew that she was being sent to a place where it's kill or be killed. And she knew that she would be one of the youngest there at only twelve. She just hoped that she could do it.

Athena saw the blank expression on Skip's face and felt her heart fill with sadness. She could tell that he was trying to be strong for her. She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to be, but she couldn't find the words.

Athena took a deep breath.

_Stop being so negative, Athena, _she commanded herself as she walked up to meet Veron on the stage, _focus on the positive. At least it's not every man for himself this year. Up to _ten _tributes could make it out alive. And if she really gave it her all, maybe Athena could even be one of them._

Veron welcomed Athena onto the stage and pulled out the next slip of paper.

"Thatcher Corrs."

Thatcher put on a brave face and walked up to meet Veron. Better to break down later with just his grandmother than in front of his entire district.

"Kali Astra Hailstorm."

Kali could not believe what she was hearing. Could it really be true? Was she really just reaped for the Hunger Games?

All of a sudden, Kali exploded. Out of her mouth came a string of curses at the Capitol said straight into the camera and she continued screaming as she made her way up onto the stage and until Veron silenced her because he wanted to draw the next name.

"Claire Redfield."

Claire wiped her wet eyes on her sleeve. She could not say she was shocked at hearing her name called. She had learned to expect anything. And, as she walked up to join the other District 3 tributes, she noticed that many of them were very young. At least she might have the opportunity to protect some younger kids and help them out.

"Pierce Lockwood," was the final name called, and Pierce sighed as he accepted his new fate. Well, at least he would be able to get away from his dad and brother.

"And there you have it!" Veron exclaimed, growing more and more excited by the minute. "District 3's tributes for the one-thousandth Hunger Games."

Veron beamed widely at the tributes, "and may the odds be _ever _in your favor."

**A/N: Oh my! It's finally done. Well, thanks for reading this and I really hope you enjoyed it.**

**PLEASE let me know who your favorite tributes are. This is important, because I want to know which tributes you guys want to stay in longer and which should be killed in the Bloodbath or early on.**

**Remember, you get 10 sponsor points for reviewing. I'll even throw in an extra 5 for anyone who tells me who their favorite tributes so far are :)**

**Thanks again everyone! **

**Love, CC**


	4. Reapings: Districts 4-6

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games!**

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter :) Here's the next one and I hope you like it!**

**Once again, sorry if I change your character a little bit!**

**District 4:**

**Valencia Reese**

Valencia scowled as she walked along the boardwalk from which multiple boats were pulling away carrying fishermen as well as others out to sea.

"Hi Valencia," said another girl she recognized as Rhiannon Holloway timidly. Rhiannon was Valencia's age and in her year at school.

"Hi." Valencia replied flatly not even bothering to morph her facial expression as the blond girl's cheeks filled with color and she hastily ran away. Rhiannon hardly ever talked, and Valencia felt a pang of guilt at acting so curt to the girl when she was trying to be more outgoing, but to be honest that wasn't exactly her greatest concern.

Valencia remembered pushing Tanya down this very boardwalk just a little over a year ago. Tanya was Valencia's best friend, but had died of cancer last year, leaving Valencia all alone in an largely populated district.

Tanya had lived out most of her life in a wheelchair, and Valencia was almost always by her side. Both girls had always loved walking along this boardwalk; watching the ships leave the dock.

Valencia had pretty much fallen apart after Tanya's death. She wouldn't get out of bed for weeks. It wasn't like she really had anywhere to go anyway. No friends to see or parents to attend to. No siblings to car for. Her parents both died when she was practically a baby, and being an only child that really left her with no one, until she met Tanya.

So the rudeness could be excused on a day like today while she both literally and figuratively took a stroll down memory lane, couldn't it?

Valencia was going to volunteer for the Games this year. She had had enough with this stupid district and its reminders of Tanya on every corner. She had a better chance of survival anyway, and, if she didn't survive, then maybe hell or heaven, or just disappearing into the atmosphere, or whatever the fuck happened when people died, would be a better place to be than all alone and completely unloved in a district where people are supposedly all rich and happy.

**Andromeda Morgan DeCoralis**

"Andi! I don't hear the sound of training your heart out!"

"Sorry, Father!" Andromeda panted, "I was just taking a short water break."

Andi jumped when she pulled the water away from her mouth and found her father, his arms crossed, leaning over her with his eyebrows raised. Andi brushed a strand of long bronze-colored hair away from her face which was, at the moment, dripping with sweat.

"Andi. S-sweetheart." Her father choked on the last word, as if it felt weird to emit from his lips. It was true, Kai DeCoralis, Andi's father rarely showed any gestures of affection whatsoever. Even something as simple as calling his child "sweetheart."

It made Andi feel slightly uncomfortable as she realized that it was reaping day, and he was probably nervous for her, despite everything he had drilled into her practically over her entire life about training for and winning the Games at all costs.

Kai continued. "Andi, how can you expect to win if you don't train your heart out? There'll be a lot more competition this year. A lot more trained Careers who can get in the way of your victory."

Andi sighed. "I know dad, but I feel like I'm ready now. I'm in prime form. And besides, this year each team will have a base that will be somewhat safe." She offered him a small smile, "I'll be fine."

"I know you will, Andi."

And then something happened that Andromeda was not expecting. Kai wrapped his arms around his daughter for what felt like the first time in her life. But surely they had hugged before? It felt strange to her, though. Having her father show this sort of affection towards her. He was never mean to her exactly, just demanding of her training and not so fatherly.

Andromeda liked the hug. It made her feel special and she hugged him back tightly.

"I love you, Andi. You know that right? And I'm so so proud of you and everything you've worked for and, hopefully, will accomplice during the next few weeks."

Her father looked like he was not quite sure how to phrase what he wanted to say next. "I-I got this for you, Andromeda."

Kai reached into his back pocket and from it drew out a silver necklace with a diamond dolphin pendant.

Andi was speechless. It was beautiful. She had never really been one for jewelry, but this was perfect.

And suddenly Andromeda could feel her eyes well up with tears. It was a pretty unfamiliar sensation. The only time she had really cried before this was at the death of her brother, Nalin during the 998th annual Hunger Games.

But this was a different kind of emotion. Yes, partially the fear that she would soon be volunteering for and participating in the Games was there. But that wasn't the bulk of what was pouring out of her heart.

Her father loved her. He was proud of her. Everything she had been doing for practically her entire life until now, really wasn't for nothing! He appreciated it.

"Thanks, Father," Andi whispered.

"I'm glad you like it, Andromeda. It can be your token in the Games." Andi smiled.

"Now get back to your training! I want to see an improvement in your fighting with those knives over there." Kai's voice had returned to the bark that Andromeda had grown used to, and she nodded before picking up one of the knives from the spot he was indicating, and proceeding to practice with a dummy.

**Cassandra Vale**

Cassandra stretched out on her bed with the new novel she had checked out of the library. She loved to read, and was not the most outgoing.

Cassandra almost immediately put down the book. Something had been bothering her very much lately; something that not even reading could take her mind off of. She had been wondering about her sister: Ariel.

Cassandra had never even met Ariel, as she had been born two years after her older sister was killed.

Maris Vale, Cassandra's father, was born to a former peacekeeper, and subsequently was allowed to become a peacekeeper at age twelve to escape the Hunger Games and married Cassandra's mother, Hally, the mayor of that time's daughter twelve years later. They soon had Ariel and, when Ariel was nine, Maris forced her to also become a peacekeeper like he did when he was just a few years older than her.

Ariel had joined a secret rebel association, but was discovered and soon murdered when she was only twelve.

Cassandra was born two years later.

Maris was now dead, just like Ariel, but Cassandra did not really think about him as much as she lately had been thinking about her sister, whom she had never even met.

She wondered what her life would be like if she had a living sister.

What would Ariel think of her? Would there be sibling rivalry between the two? Would they share everything and be best friends, or hardly ever speak?

She supposed she would never find out.

**Wade Lockhearst**

"Dad said it was my turn to steer!"

"No, he said it was mine!"

"Guys! Just stop fighting. You can both have a turn steering the boat." Wade attempted to break up the fight that seemed about to spring about between his twin brother and sister from his father's boat that he and his siblings loved to ride on with their dad.

"But-"

"No buts. Can one of you just let the other have a turn for once?"

"Fine," said his brother, Julian, "you can go first, Jelena."

His twin sister beamed, "thanks, Julian."

"Want to lower the bait to the water, Wade?" Wade nodded. His father had taken Wade and the twins fishing; leaving their mother at home with Wade's youngest brother, Tommy, who was only five.

Wade and his dad both loved to fish, but for the thirteen-year-old twins, it was more exciting to steer the boat by themselves.

"So. Reaping day again, huh?" Wade's father tried making conversation.

Wade just shrugged. He wasn't like some of the kids his age in District 4 who were all about risking their lives if there was a chance at becoming even richer and brining glory upon themselves.

"Games are a lot different this year, aren't they? For the Quell."

Wade merely nodded again. The Hunger Games weren't exactly his favorite topic of conversation. Especially during the time when he was supposed to be fishing; something serene and not at all violent. (well, besides the twins' arguments) Not something that should be associated with the Games in any way.

**Rhiannon Holloway**

Rhiannon blinked back her tears and sniffed as she sat on her couch with her sketchpad.

Normally, an encounter like the one she had with Valencia earlier that morning, would not have affected her as much as it did today. Today Rhiannon was particularly fragile though.

Rhiannon had always wanted to be beautiful. Sexy. Noticed. She wanted to be the popular girl with the hot boyfriend who every guy wanted to date and every girl wanted to be.

But she wasn't.

Except for the part about the hot boyfriend.

His name was Rob. At first, they were having a blast together. She enjoyed being with him and he was a good boyfriend to her. Key words: at first.

After a few weeks though, it became clear that Rob was abusive and obsessed with sex, and only wanted her to make love with or hit (depending on his mood) her body. The two began fighting violently more and more often.

Then, one day, Rob seemed to change. It was almost as if he had gone back to the way he was when they first started dating. No. It was better.

He was chivalrous and romantic, which had Rhiannon very confused. It lasted a week, and on the eighth day, he set up a romantic, elegant candlelit dinner for the two of them, complete with red roses, scrumptious seafood, and classy champagne. It turned out, though that Rob drank to much and returned to his old abusive self that night. Otherwise known as the night before the reaping. Last night.

He had stripped naked down to his underwear, and threw Rhiannon down on the bed in an attempt to rape her.

He succeeded.

He threatened afterwards to kill her if she told anyone. She wanted to break up with him. But she had worked so hard to get out of the realm of being a nobody. Rhiannon did not want to go back to that.

Rhiannon massaged the wound she had received on her knee in her haste to get out of Rob's house when she banged it against the brick wall of the outside of his house as she was brought back to reality.

In her sketch pad, Rhiannon looked down to see the blond girl she had been drawing, curled up in her bed. Though the image was not moving, it gave the impression of the girl racking with sobs.

Rhiannon did not bother to try and staunch the tears flowing out of her own violet colored eyes as she tore the picture of her traumatized self out of the sketchpad, crumpled it up into a ball, and threw it into the garbage.

There was no use crying over something she couldn't change, after all. And she couldn't change the past. And she didn't want to change the future by breaking up with him.

**Emerson Nottishime**

Eme ignored the sarcastic wolf whistle sent her way by some boy in her year, Spencer Gait at the flip of her long curly blond hair as she walked down the main street of District 4.

"What's the matter, Nottishime? Can't take a compliment?"

Emerson said nothing, but silently smirked to herself.

She found it quite amusing to be honest, how they all thought that they were so funny. They all thought that they annoyed her to no end, but, in reality, Eme didn't really care what they said or did.

She didn't care what any of them thought of her.

So she turned around and batted the long dark lashes around her piercing blue eyes at them. "How's this:" Eme let out a high pitched giggle and twirled one of her curls around her finger. She assumed a squeaky, girly voice and gushed, "Oh! Spencer! Aren't you just gorgeous! Those toned muscles and that sun kissed blond hair!"

Emerson reformed her face to its usual neutral expression, "better, Gait?"

"Much," he choked on his laughter.

Eme shrugged. "Bye boys," she said to him and his little crew of followers. They all burst out in laughter at her, and Emerson smiled to herself. It really was funny how they all thought they were always getting her to embarrass herself so much.

But they were wrong.

Because Emerson did not care in the least what anyone thought of her. Least of all Spencer Gait and his little gang of idiot friends.

**Isabelle Moriarty**

Isabelle could feel her eyes blazing maniacally as she let out her signature villainous laugh and her hollow face brightened at the sight of her five-year-old little brother.

He had received a scrape and his right forearm was bleeding more and more by the minute. Isabelle threw her head back in excitement at the sight of the lovely red liquid. Apparently, it had come from a particularly sharp thorn on a bush that he had clumsily run into when playing outside.

Isabelle pulled out her knife from her pocket (not many people knew that she carried around the knife, not that anyone would question her. They were all terrified of her. Especially if they knew she carried a knife around occasionally) and massaged its dull end, before bringing it up to her cheek, not even bothering to ensure that it didn't cut her, although in the end it didn't.

Isabelle remained silent while the little boy's eyes filled with tears and then the little tear droplets spilled over.

She faintly heard the sound of two people descending the staircase as her parents came into the kitchen. Probably to tell the two children to start getting ready for the reaping.

"Oh my," Isabelle's mother immediately ran over to her son and hugged him tightly. "It's okay, it's just a cut."

Isabelle's father then seemed to notice her standing there silently, as if it were just her and her knife and no one else.

As his eyes fell to the sharp weapon in her hand, he began inching closer and closer towards his wife and son.

"I-Isabelle?" he asked timidly, then shielded his face with his hands as if expecting her to throw the knife at him at any second.

Isabelle looked up at her father with fire in her eyes but remained silent.

"D-d-did you do this to Xander?" he asked. He was shaking with fear.

"Andrew," her mother warned, placing her hand on his arm as if to say, don't get any closer to her.

Xander. The little boy. No, of course she didn't do that to him! It was a thorn from a bush.

Tell them about the bush! she demanded of herself. Tell them now! Don't be an idiot!

But Isabelle still said nothing for a while.

Then she threw her head back in laughter for a while and looked back at the rest of her family before simply stating. "No."

Isabelle ran up to her room where she collapsed onto her blood red carpet, still excited from the sight of her brother's blood, but it was not the same as the thrill of the kill that she had experienced before when she strangled that leader of the pack of her bullies before proceeding to kill the others with this very knife that she was now holding tenderly.

Isabelle cackled once more.

**Caspian Orman**

"Caspian! Caspian!" Caspian was brought back to reality as he saw his friend, Romy wielding a sword directly over his head.

Sometimes Caspian was filled with confusion about Romy.

Romy was very good looking, Caspian would never deny that. And the two were good friends; currently working on training with sword fight together. But sometimes Caspian couldn't help but notice how his spiky black hair was lifted up perfectly from his perfectly tanned face.

And Caspian could not help but notice the slight flutter of his heart whenever Romy entered the room, nor could he help but notice the part of his heart that melted whenever Romy wasn't in a good mood for whatever reason.

But Caspian wasn't gay. That was the problem. Or . . . at least he didn't think he was. What if he really was straight and made a move on Romy, making himself marked as a gay for the rest of his life when he really wasn't? What if people made fun of him for it? Caspian always absolutely hated being the center of attention, and now what if that attention was brought upon him for something that was just a false alarm?

"C'mon, Caspian, don't just sit there looking cute! We have to get back to training!"

Romy said things like this often. But Caspian wasn't really sure if he was reading Romy's signals correctly, or if that was simply the other boy's way of speaking. How could Caspian really be sure? He had never really seen Romy converse with anyone else. Maybe he spoke to girls like this too. For all Caspian knew, he spoke to girls much more flirtatiously.

And Caspian couldn't risk loosing Romy as a friend no matter what. So he would just have to give them both some time to think before starting anything major.

Caspian rose from the bench he had been sitting on, but just as he reached for a trident to practice with, Romy sat down, claiming that they had trained enough and they could spend the rest of the session chatting.

This was often how their training sessions went; rather then the two boys practicing their skills that would be needed for the Hunger Games, the two most of the time just sat on the bench with Romy chattering away and Caspian listening attentively.

Today though, Caspian didn't really feel like listening to Romy talk. He definitely did not want to risk getting caught up in the sight of his friend or just getting lost in the sound of his confident, playful voice, and accidentally let something slip that he was not yet sure was true.

**Derek Bluetip**

Derek's father bared his sharp teeth as he entered the living room where Derek was sprawled across the plush leather couch with his feet up and his head resting casually upon his hands.

Father was known among the district for being a famous victor of the Hunger Games years back. He made his name specifically for his unique choice of weapon during the Games; his teeth.

He was known for biting the other tributes in the neck during his Games, and subsequently people began to refer to him as "vampire."

Father was proud of the title and had even highlighted it by sharpening his teeth to further resemble fangs.

Father was almost never home, spending months on end in the Capitol, and the shock of seeing him must have shown on Derek's face, because Father raised an eyebrow.

"Uh . . . 'sup Pops?"

This time both eyebrows went up.

"I'm sure the Capitol caps it all. Geddit? Like Cap-i-tol, cap-it-all? Huh, huh?" Derek stood up and nudged his father lightly on the shoulder. Father was evidently unimpressed with Derek's corny joke, and without saying a word turned on his heel and left, probably thinking that it was a mistake to come home to his two idiot children.

Derek's mother was killed years ago by the Capitol, leaving Derek in the care of his older sister, Tanya.

The switch from the daughter to a motherly figure caught Tanya by surprise, and she often lashes out on Derek because of it.

Derek ran a hand through his slick black hair. Well, things would be so different in just a few weeks. Derek was going to Volunteer for the Games, and he knew he'd come out victorious. Then maybe Father would respect him more and even appreciate his clever (at least in his opinion) jokes. And Tanya wouldn't even matter anymore. He would be free.

Derek hastily shuffled passed his father who was eating a slice of bread in the kitchen, and found his grandmother sitting on one of the Bluetips' beach chairs by the pool in their backyard.

"Hey, Grandmother. How's reaping day treating you?"

Grandmother looked Derek up and down before staring into his blue eyes intensely.

"You're really going to do it, aren't you, Derek? You're really going to volunteer."

Derek rocked back and forth uncomfortably and nodded. "Yeah, but don't worry, you'll be seeing me right back here in just a few week's time. Then you can take me out on a celebratory lap around the sea."

Grandmother cracked a smile. It wasn't often that she agreed to go out into the sea with Derek or Tanya. Derek wasn't quite sure why, but he assumed that that could have been how his grandfather died before Derek was born.

"I have to go, Grandmother, reaping day awaits me and I'd like to be fashionably early."

And with that, Derek whirled around dramatically and swaggered out and away from the Bluetip residence.

**Leah Hunter**

Baby Lily giggled from Leah's arms and Leah beamed at the sight of her.

Lily was Leah's one-year-old daughter who had been born accidentally after Leah got to intimate with a boyfriend. He and Leah were now broken up, and she did not even know if he knew about Lily, but Leah had never been happier than the day that the little girl was delivered to her.

The teen pregnancy had been hell, but it was worth it just to feel her daughter's soft skin and look into her beautiful blue eyes specked with gold just like Leah's own ones.

"Can we hold her?"

Leah's little twin sisters had arrived. Lucy and Mia were both twelve and loved their niece almost as much as Leah did. Well, that's not true. Leah didn't think that anyone could ever compare to the love she felt for her baby, but Lucy and Mia both truly did adore her.

Leah nodded. "Just be careful."

She knew that they would. Though the twins could be reckless at times, they were gentle as anything with Lily.

Lily reached for a clump of Mia's hair from the latter's arms and Mia winced.

Leah smiled, glad that her family was finally at peace.

Leah's older brother had one the Games a few years ago, but his experiences in the arena drove him to madness and he committed suicide. Leah's mother drowned herself after hearing the news of her son's death, and, her younger brother drowned himself upon his eldest sibling's refusal to go on the victory tour, anticipating what was to come having known him better than anyone else, and could not bare to see his brother kill himself.

Leah braided Lucy's bronze-colored hair while Mia played with Lily.

"I caught something for us for tonight," Leah announced to the twins. The girls cheered, and Lily put her hands together a few times, happy that everyone else was cheering even though she did not really know what was going on.

Leah liked to catch seafood for her and her family to eat, and it was a big hit among them. She would begin to cook the fresh flounder she just caught right after the reaping, which, she figured she should start helping the twins prepare for.

It was their first one after all, and she might need to calm them down a little bit before they left anyway.

**Oceanlena Manae**

"Whoa, slow down there, Ocean."

Oceanlena had thought that she was alone, and was therefore quite startled to see the figure her closest friend, Kronik, looming over her, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

Ocean had been furiously swimming back and forth in her training center's pool, and had not even noticed Kron enter, though he looked as though he had been standing there watching her for a while.

Kronik was right. Oceanlena's swimming was far more intense than usual that day. But that was simply the nature of the day; it made things more intense. More stressful.

It was reaping day.

Kron looked slightly amused. "Try not to hurt yourself with that butterfly stroke."

Ocean laughed, but even she could tell that it was apparent to Kronik that something more was on her mind beneath that smile.

"What's up, Ocean?"

Ocean shrugged. "It's just that . . . it bothers me. You know, so many people Volunteering for the Games. These are our friends! Our classmates! The people we've grown up with. And now we have to watch them, and twelve this year, rather than just the normal two, risking their lives for a very slim chance of survival."

Kron said nothing. Ocean continues. "And, being a Victor is not even worth it. There's pretty much no way to escape the arena with no kills, or at least without indirectly killing someone, and the life of riches and luxury are not with the way it corrupts our soul."

Oceanlena had not been looking at Kronik the whole time she was speaking, and immediately regretted everything she said when she did.

Small droplets of tears were threatening to spill out of Kronik's sea-green eyes, and Ocean knew that it had been insensitive of her to say that.

Kronik's older brother, Jameson, was killed in the Games two years ago, when he was eighteen.

"I-I'm sorry Kron. I didn't mean to- to-"

"It's fine." Kronik dried his eyes and forced a smile.

"I know that it's not fine."

Kronik shook his head. Ocean knew what he was thinking about. Kronik was very worried about his little sister, Jemmie being in killed in the Games as well. Especially this year when there were twelve opportunities for her to be reaped and no one Volunteer.

Ocean hoisted herself up out of the water and quickly towel-dried her sopping wet elbow length, golden blond hair. She dried off her body briefly and then wrapped an arm around Kronik's shoulder.

"She'll be fine," Ocean reassured him. "I know she will. Now, My dad's not going to be happy if he finds out that not only did I waste an hour and a half of my training time swimming, but most of the allotted time that you and I were supposed to train together we just sat jabbering away."

Kron smirked and he and Ocean both went back inside the training center.

**Madeline Taylor and Freya Maria Kent**

Maddie and Freya munched on their apples as they sat on a bench in the little waiting room meant for the patients of her parents, both of whom were medics.

Madeline had been passionate about medicine ever since she was saved from Leukemia when she was just a baby. Freya was just a gentle kind of girl who loved helping people out, and now even had a part time job at a children's hospital. Both girls often helped their parents out when they were busy with patients, and were now sitting eating apples during their break.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Lakeson, you have given birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy."

It wasn't often that Maddie and Freya's parents dealt with childbirth, as they were both far from experts in that particular field, but every once in a while a mother would come to the Kents to have her baby, especially being trusting friends or patients that already knew them.

Freya cooed as the little bundle of blue was brought into light blue curtain where the Kent saw all of their patients, when the curtain was pushed aside.

Maddie smiled too at her sister's expression. Freya had always loved children, and wanted nothing more than to grow up to be a wonderful and happy mother.

Maddie hoped that her twin sister was able to achieve that one day.

"I think we should get back to Mom and Dad," said Maddie, nudging Freya on the shoulder.

Freya nodded, but did not move from her spot, her eyes glued to the baby, until the curtain was replaced.

**Reaping**

After the short introduction that always took place including the speeches and everything associated with reaping day, the District 4 escort, Agatha LaRouge, a woman heightened by her orange heels resembling clownfish with bright blue hair styled to parallel the waves of District 4, got straight to the reaping.

Agatha picked up the first name from the large bowl containing both the names of male and female tributes eligible for reaping.

"River Bronze."

"I Volunteer!" came a shout from the sixteen-year-old females section, and Emerson Nottishime merely shrugged when all eyes turned to her, and she took her place on the stage alongside Agatha.

Eme introduced herself without Agatha even having to ask, and the escort was immediately all over her. "Ooh, Emerson, darling! (What a lovely name might I add) and that outfit is simply . . ."

Agatha did not seem to know what to say to Emerson's plain white button down blouse and light blue knee length skirt so she simply moved on. "Your eyes are fab, my dear."

Emerson raised an eyebrow, not quite sure how to respond to that, and, after a brief, awkward silence, Agatha shrugged and read the next name from the reaping bowl.

"Madeline Taylor Kent." Maddie stood strong and glared at the crowd during the whole walk up to the stage, not even bothering to try and pay attention to anything Agatha gushed to her.

But Maddie was not expecting when a cute, timid-looking twelve-year-old was reaped next and Freya Volunteered for her and joined her sister.

"Leah Hunter."

Leah let out a scream. Where was the Volunteer? This was District 4 after all, and Leah even personally knew some people who were planning on Volunteering. Were they having second thoughts?

She could hear the mingled scream's of Lucy and Mia as well as Leah's father. Baby Lily was even joining in in the wailing, following her grandfather from his arms, not even knowing what was going on.

Leah sniffed loudly and hugged herself as she walked gingerly up to meet Agatha on the stage.

"Well, hello Leah, my dear!" Agatha babbled. "That was just darling how you . . ."

Leah zoned out, not focusing on Agatha's mindless babble. Leah was thinking about her baby. What would be of Lily now? What if her father and sisters do the same thing that the rest of their family did when she died as when her brother died? Leah shuddered. Then where would Lily go? And poor Lucy and Mia; they would be alone. And her father; forced to witness the death of yet another loved one, and then continue to raise two twelve-year-olds and an infant single-handedly. Leah shook her head.

Apparently, Agatha had finished her little speech to Leah, because she called out the next name.

"Caspian Orman."

Caspian could feel himself filling with shock, but, as thousands of pairs of eyes turned to stare at him in anticipation, he ran up to the stage at top speed to get that uncomfortable attention over and done with. After greeting Caspian, Agatha proceeded to reading the next slip of paper that she drew from the reaping bowl tenderly.

"Kaia Meller."

"I Volunteer." Of course Derek Volunteered. He knew that he was going to win. In just a few short weeks he would be returning to District 4 as Ultimate Victor.

"Julian Lockhearst."

Down in the fifteen-year-old males section, Wade paled. This could not be happening! No way. But as his shaking little brother let out a sob and began making his way towards the stage, Wade's knees buckled down and he let a tear fall.

"No! I Volunteer!"

And thus, Wade Lockhearst joined the District 4 tributes for the 1000th Hunger Games.

"Rhiannon Holloway."

Rhiannon said nothing and shakily met Agatha and the tributes for District 4 so far on the stage.

"Lis Vaine," read Agatha.

"I Volunteer as tribute," called Valencia gruffly and harshly.

"Lianem Grayhold."

Isabelle did not know what came over her. She had not been planning on Volunteering. But suddenly something inside her told her to Volunteer. And Isabelle wanted to avoid angering that voice. She did not need it mentally beating her any more than it already did.

She stumbled onto the stage before even saying the words, then seemed to remember that she had not yet told Agatha that she was Volunteering.

"I Volunteer," she said simply, though seeing the enraged look of blazing madness in the girl's eyes and her hollowed out face, even Agatha LaRouge was rendered speechless out of fear.

"Grayna Blett."

"I Volunteer."

Andi fingered her new pendant and gave her father a smile which, after a moment's hesitation where his features remained in their usual brute look of indifference, he returned proudly.

"My name is Andromeda Morgan DeCoralis," said Andi, when Agatha asks.

"Oooh! Well, hello there my dear, Andromeda. Now I must say, that nice, blue-green t-shirt really does bring out your lovely brown eyes. And you should truly take that to heart, Andromeda, because it's not often that I compliment someone on a t-shirt.

"Cassandra Vale."

Cassandra heard her name being called in the distance. But really, all she could hear was the sound of a gunshot. The sound of the gunshot that killed her sister. Cassandra had never even met Ariel, and, obviously, had never heard the sound of her sister being killed, but Cassandra had a pretty vivid imagination, which, at the moment, was not to her advantage.

Cassandra looked around. She was pretty sure that there might have been other people Volunteering that year (though she could not be positive). Perhaps they were holding off for her sake. Perhaps they figured that Cassandra would rather see her sister than the rest of her life. Perhaps they were correct.

And, finally, once Cassandra joined Agatha, the final named called was "Oceanlena Manae."

Ocean felt her mouth drop open from her spot in the seventeen-year-old females section.

Ocean's father had always wanted her to Volunteer for the Games, and had had her Volunteer since she was a little child: Dad always wanted another child (a son to be exact) who he could train up for the Games and watch his boy win. But a few years after Ocean was born, he realized that his wife was no longer able to have kids, and therefore enrolled Ocean in training right away.

But Ocean did not want to Volunteer. And she was not going.

But the other citizens of her district knew that she would make a good tribute. And so none of them Volunteered to take her spot.

Ocean could see through Mother's wobbly smile that she was scared to death for her daughter's life. Dad was trying to appear worried and solemn, but Ocean saw right through his facade as well, and knew that he was really floating on clouds of happiness, and his stomach was most likely threatening to explode, just like hers was, but out of excitement rather than fear.

Ocean joined the other tributes on the stage.

"Well, there you have it!" said Agatha. "District 4, give it up for your tributes for the one-thousandth annual Hunger Games."

The District 4 citizens cheered and the tributes smiled and waved to the cameras as the District 4 reaping concluded.

**District 5:**

**Logan Hanes**

"Girls, Dad just went out to the grocery store, he should be back soon," Logan informed his two little sisters, Christie and Amy.

"Will he really?" asked Amy with a hint of sarcasm. The little girl was only ten, but was taking her father's lack of involvement in her life seriously.

Logan's mother died two years ago, and all three children had taken it very hard, but their father even more so. He had become more and more distant from the kids and payed little attention to them. He still provided them with food and money and their other physical needs, but he wasn't what they really needed emotionally; a father.

"I'm not sure that I can really answer that, Amy." Sometimes Father disappeared for hours or even days when he said he was just making a short stop at the grocery store.

"I'm sorry guys," said Logan, seeing the saddened expressions on both of his sisters' faces. "Really, I am. I wish Father would be around more often." Logan could hear his voice crack, so he stopped talking so that the tears would not fall when he saw his two little sisters looking near tears. Logan put an arm around each of them until finally Amy broke the silence.

"Do you ever miss Carter, Logan?"

Carter was Logan's best friend who Volunteered for the Games last year and was killed.

"Of course I do, Amy. "I miss him just like I miss Mother. But it's not like we can bring them back."

Logan had a pretty good idea of why Amy was asking: Christie had just celebrated her twelfth birthday last month, and in just a few hours would be participating in her very first reaping. Amy and Christie had always been the best of friends, besides being sisters, and Logan knew that Amy was very fearful for her sister's life.

"Don't worry. Both of you. Now, come on. Let's talk about something happier - Christie did Dad end up buying you that new dress you had your eyes on for your birthday?"

**Blue Halloran**

Blue approached a cluster of her friends by a large office building where they were watching solar panels being put up.

"Hey, guys. Beautiful day, isn't it?"

One of Blue's friends, Yvette, tore her gaze from the construction workers and rounded on Blue. "What do you mean 'beautiful day?' Have you checked a calendar in the past . . . ever?! How could you possibly be enjoying the weather on reaping day of all days, Blue?"

Blue stepped back a little, slightly taken aback at Yvette's bluntness, but Blue did feel bad for mentioning that. She really should have been more sensitive around Yvette, even if she was just trying to cheer up this group of twelve-year-olds, nervous for their very first reaping.

Yvette's older sister, Raina had been killed in the Hunger Games a few years ago, and it had really changed Yvette. The girl who used to be a bubble of sweet, happy energy now turned rude and critical and highly demanding.

Blue had actually been closer to Raina than Yvette despite the age difference between them, and really missed the older girl as well.

"I'm sorry, Yvette. I-"

"It's okay, Blue. I know you didn't mean it like that. I really shouldn't be getting upset at an innocent little comment like that, but . . ."

"Yeah," said Blue softly. "Yeah, I understand.

**Galileo Esis**

Lil tied her hair up in a bun and ran her hands down the conservative white blouse she had chosen as well as the skirt that covered her knees. Lil wasn't usually the type to willingly show off her body.

Galileo was in her homey blue bedroom sitting on her cozy navy blue carpet. She had just woken up and was not really in the mood to go downstairs yet to see the rest of her family in which she often feels left out of.

But Galileo heard the excited chatter coming from downstairs and the curiosity that burned in her mind to know what her parents and brother were talking about got the best of her, and she hoisted herself up, adjusted her square rimmed glasses, yanked a brush quickly through her thin blond hair and joined the rest of her family downstairs.

Lil found her mother, father, and two brothers, Newton and Hubble pouring over a blueprint for a new science project the two boys had been assisting their parents with.

Both of her parents were scientists, and her brothers' intelligence definitely beat Lil's, though Lil was also a very smart person. Sometimes Lil felt slightly overshadowed by all of them.

All of the friends of Lil's family assume that she has not yet found her calling, and seem to be quite devoted to making her find it, getting her a new job every week. Lil always had multiple things on her mind because of this (well, partially because of this, partially because she was just born that way) and could never just stay focused on only one simple thing at a time.

It took Lil's mother a full seven minutes (Lil counted) to look up from her blueprint at her daughter. "Oh hey honey, your last reaping, eh?"

Her mother smiled warmly and gave her a tight hug. "You'll do great, Lil."

Hubble backed away from the design. "I find the Capitol repulsing," he said. "They're just a bunch of dimwitted idiots who want to take people's children for no reason. Good thing we'll be done worrying about the Games after this year."

Lil nodded her agreement, though, to be honest, she did not completely agree with what her brother was saying.

Lil pretended to be just as disgusted with the Capitol as most people, but if she was being totally honest with herself, she would have to admit that she was intrigued by their way of life and their interaction with the districts.

Lil poured herself a bowl of cereal and milk and ate in silence for a while, before claiming that she needed some fresh air and leaving the rest of the family to finish designing their experiment.

**Dina Edison**

Dina awoke on the morning of reaping day that year; the fourth year that her name would be in the reaping bowl. And the first year that she had eight times the chance of getting picked.

Dina scolded herself for letting such negative thoughts like that seep into her brain, and she sat up on her bed, giving her long flaming red hair a shake before deciding that it would be more prudent to have it up in a messy bun then flowing down her back on a hot day like today in District 5. She stuck two black chopsticks into her hair and grinned at the finished product. Much more comfortable.

She quickly dressed herself in a royal blue bubble dress that she had been told once belonged to her mother, but she wasn't sure whether to believe that. The orphanage people had probably just made that up when they gave her the dress to make her feel good. It was the only birthday present they had given her, as there was not enough money to buy more than one per child ever, but the dress from when she was fourteen still fit nicely, though it was a bit tight and a little short on her.

Dina had been put up for adoption and sent to an orphanage as soon as she was born. Her younger brother, Albert, soon joined her only a year later when he too was born and put up for adoption right away. Dina and Albert were never adopted, but Albert dropped out of school to work in a power plant so that the two of them could afford a small house together. Sometimes Dina worried about her little brother. He had not gotten a formal education due to dropping out of school, and she wasn't quite sure how safe his job was for a fifteen-year-old boy. But she was glad that they had both been able to escape that cramped little orphanage where, to be honest, neither of them had any friends anyway besides each other.

Dina slipped on her favorite black flats and scooted down the steps, anticipating that Albert would be waiting for her there. The two often liked to talk the morning of reaping day. Sometimes Dina felt like none of her friends really understood her. But Albert did. He came from the same place she did. Had the same experiences as her and more.

She looked around for signs of the blazing red hair of her little brother identical to her own except cropped short. She was unsuccessful in finding him anywhere in the house (and there was not much place to look).

Dina was in the process of calling out Albert's name, when she realized that she knew exactly where her little brother was, and mentally slapped herself.

Out in the courtyard of the Edisons' neighbors' large house was a blueberry bush that grew the sweetest blueberries Dina had ever tasted. Their neighbors, the LeTricks, had a son Dina's age whom she was good friends with, and they all seemed to like her and Albert, because they told them that they were welcome on their property or in the house any time without even asking, and they were free to take as many blueberries as they wanted. All berries were very rare in District 5, and Dina felt quite honored that her neighbors seemed to have taken such a liking to her.

Albert loved that bush. Dina was not quite sure why, but he often came out here just to sit under it and think.

She approached him carefully.

Neither of them said anything for a while, they simply sat, occasionally popping blueberries into their mouths.

Finally, Dina broke the silence. "So, off from work today, huh?"

Albert nodded. "Yeah, of course. It's Reaping day."

Dina looked at him with blue eyes filled with worry. "You're not worried about being reaped, are you Albert?"

Albert shrugged.

Truthfully, Dina had been worrying the same thing. For both herself and Albert. But seeing the look of sadness on her brother's face, she pushed aside all of those feelings and smiled widely, hoping that it would be contagious.

"You know, Albert. We've grown up being best friends, not just brother and sister. I know you, and I can tell that you're scared. But don't be. I know that you're going to be fine, and seriously, after all those great times we had at the orphanage squishing together every night on that narrow, cracked bed, and escaping those scary kids who seemed to take joy in beating us up that I would actually ever let anything happen to you?"

Albert smiled at the "fond" memories and Dina began to laugh. Soon, both siblings were rolling on the grass in laughter for no apparent reason. Whether out of worry or happiness Dina would never know, but she did know that her little brother would always have someone to rely on and cheer him up when he was sad.

**Ember Fox**

Ember waved goodbye to her parents and shut the door to her house as she joined a group of her friends on the street. They were all chatting about Lillia's, one of Ember's friends, hot new boyfriend.

Ember tuned them out, lost in her own thoughts as she drifted away from the group slightly.

Ember scratched an itch on her dark brown skin and her thoughts traveled to her family. Ember was adopted by a kind and caring couple called Jacob and Penny Halliwell. The Halliwells were great parents and she loved them very much, but she often wondered what it would be like to meet her birth parents. People with her same chocolate colored skin and dark, wavy brown hair. Would it be weird to see them? She wondered what they would think of her.

Ember sighed. She would never have to worry about those things though, because from the looks of it, she wasn't going to be meeting her birth family anytime soon.

Ember smiled sweetly at her group of friends and bid them goodbye, "I'll see you guys all at the reaping; I have to go."

She gave each of her friends a tight hug, telling them to be strong and wishing them good luck at the reaping.

She turned on her heel and left. She did not really have anywhere to be just yet, and did not even know where she planned on going right now, but Ember felt like she just needed some time to herself to muse.

**Solo White**

Solo grinned as a pretty girl, Lailah, looped her arm through his. Solo was only twelve, but had quite a few girlfriends his age already.

Lailah pushed back a strand of her fiery red hair and giggled as Solo winked at her and ran his own hands through his dirty blond hair.

"Our first reaping day, eh? Should be a breeze."

Lailah let out a shaky laugh, "I would be a bit more concerned if I were you."

Solo softened as he looked Lailah in the eye. He knew what she was thinking. Lailah's best friend, Sofia had once had six older siblings, three of whom were killed in the Games. Solo had dated Sofia briefly, but after her brother's death in last year's Games, Sofia had become distant, never talking to anyone, even Lailah and crying all the time when she thought no one was looking.

"Hey, she'll be fine, Lailah. Especially when she has great friends like you looking out for her."

Lailah smiled and Solo flexed his (non-existent, though that did not seem to matter to him) muscles.

Solo opened his mouth to speak, but before he could they were met by a kind face all too familiar to Solo.

"Solo! There you are, baby! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Uh . . . hi, Mom."

"You have to come home now, baby boy, we have to get you all cleaned up for your very first reaping day! Oh, Mommy's so worried . . ."

"Shove off, Mom," he whispered, feeling his cheeks growing redder by the minute, motioning to Lailah.

"Ohhh." His mom finally seemed to be catching on. Suddenly her stare turned cold on Lailah. "You can leave now, dear," she emphasized the word. "Solo has a lot of things to do that don't involve hanging around alone with redheaded girls with names that start with the letter 'L' at the mere age of twelve on the day of his very first reaping," she snapped.

"Subtle . . ." Solo murmured to himself.

"C'mon, Solo baby." Mom yanked his arm, leaving Solo with barely enough time to wave goodbye to Lailah quickly.

**Minerva Calls**

Minerva skipped along all around District 5, book on medicine in hand. Now, most would say that this book is too advanced for a thirteen-year-old, but Minerva always wanted to know more, and in order to achieve her goal of learning as much as she could at a young age so that she could get an early start on her desired career as a doctor, she would have to read up on whatever she could.

Minerva passed a group of kids from her school who snickered as she passed by. Minerva had to admit that she knew that her appearance (super-thick glasses, simple shirts and skirts, with always a pencil tucked behind her ear and a bunch of notebooks with her at all times which most of the time, like now for example, were safely on her shoulder in a brown tote bag) invited laughs from the other kids, but she didn't care. When she was successful one day because she had focused her time and energy on learning as much as she could, rather than primping herself up and gossiping, they could all beg her to let them work for her for at least some small salary that they otherwise could never acquire to feed their families.

You all just wait and see, she wished she could tell them.

Minerva was trying to just walk passed them without causing any trouble, really, she was. But she just couldn't help herself when one popular boy at her school, Samuel, was feeding the rest of the group inaccurate information that they were going to be tested on in two days.

But, seriously, could you really blame her? Samuel had to be one of the dumbest people Minerva had ever met. He had his whole little posse convinced that people only used three muscles to take a step! Three! She couldn't help herself but butt into their conversation despite everything in her telling her to just stay out of it.

"Actually, humans use over two-hundred muscles to take a single step. You know, Samuel-"

She expected all of her classmates to look relieved that Minerva had come to their rescue with the correct answer, so that they did not all mess it up on the test. Clearly she expected too much of her peers.

"What are you even doing here, Calls?" demanded one girl who was obsessed with Samuel in her high-pitched squeaky voice.

"I was just trying to-" Minerva cut herself off mid-sentence. She could feel her throat tightening and the flow of air into her lungs slowing. Minerva felt around her tote bag until finally she found her inhaler and gave herself a puff of air. She took a few minutes to catch her breath, and then wanted to go back to explaining to the group how she was just trying to help them, but found that they were all doubled over with laughter. At her.

Minerva could feel her eyes filling up with tears. Why did kids have to be so mean? Minerva had had severe asthma since birth due to being born prematurely. She was actually lucky to survive at all. Her father left her and her mother once it was announced that she had asthma not caring enough to want to be responsible for her after hearing this and how fragile it would make her.

Minerva wanted to sprint away at top speed, but her breathing was still shaky, so she just walked at a normal speed. All eyes were on her until she finally got away from those cruel children she called her classmates.

**Blakely Lewis**

Blakely awoke on reaping day and found that she had slept later than she expected. She grumbled something about how she was going to kill her best friend, or more like brother, as well as roommate, Loot, but then she realized that the twelve-year-old boy was nowhere to be found.

Blakely shivered slightly as the breeze blew into the abandoned building that she and Loot had been living in for a few days now.

Blakely and Loot had been helping each other out for seven years now; Blakely provided protection for the boy, while he offered her a share of the loot he collected often from the average unsuspecting citizens of District 5. Loot was the most infamous and elusive thief in the district and was given his nickname, Loot, for all the loot that he acquired from almost everyone else in the district. No one new Loot's real name, not even Blakely, though that was fine with her. Sometimes she found it ironic, however, how Loot was her best friend in the entire world, as well as the only person whom she'd be willing to do anything for, and she did not even know his real first name.

She was born in the poorer side of the district, to two parents who could hardly go two seconds without screaming at each other. To avoid her home life, she spent a lot of time in the streets on her own. When Blakely was eight, her father killed her mother and was executed for it, leaving Blakely to the streets as her permanent place of dwelling.

She managed to scrounge her way through life in the streets for two years, until she met Loot. He was just a little boy at the time, but had already made a name for himself in terms of his skills in thievery, and Blakely found him surrounded by a gang of thugs, trying to steal his loot.

And now, here Blakely was. She and Loot were the best of friends; siblings really. They jumped from one abandoned building to the next to live in so as not to be caught by peacekeepers.

Slowly the door creaked open, and Blakely was relieved to hear Loot's familiar footsteps.

"Get anything good?" she questioned.

Loot shrugged. "Not really. But I have a few rolls and a chocolate for us from the bakery. I figured I could always go for another run after the reaping.

Blakely nodded. "You're okay aren't you, Loot? You know, for your very first reaping."

Loot scoffed. "Yeah, 'course. Nothing to worry about. I think we should get out of this one soon," Loot waved his hands around to indicate the building that they were sleeping in. "We been here a while, and I don't want to be caught."

Blakely nodded silently and, without a word, began stuffing her few belongings into the black suitcase she now brought pretty much everywhere with her.

**Reaping**

Gorralis Flailton was the District 5 escort, and a rather flamboyant man.

"Hello, hello, District 5 citizens," he waved his hands around a lot when he spoke. "Can I hear you all give it up for what will surely be the most epic Quarter Quell yet?"

No palms drew towards their partner.

Gorralis sighed dramatically. "I said, give it up for the most epic Quarter Quell yet! Come on guys!" he said in a whining tone.

He got a bit more response that time.

"That's better."

The first name called was "Galileo Esis."

Lil could feel her insides clenching with fear, but forced herself not to break down, and, taking long, deep breaths, managed to remain calm as she marched up to meet Gorralis on the stage.

"Solo White."

Solo smiled. "Oh yeah!" He flexed his so-called "muscles" and smiled and winked at all the girls, including Lailah who now had her face in her hands and was tear-stricken, and flashed a dazzling smile for the cameras.

"Minerva Calls."

Upon hearing her name called, Minerva immediately began to scout out her competition so far. She knew Galileo from around the district, and she knew that that girl was a thinker like herself, but, also like Minerva, had little to no skill in combat. Solo, she knew, would most likely be an easy kill for a Career or whoever. He really had nothing going for him in the Hunger Games. He was flirty and goofy and confident, and could be seen as a cute little boy what with his dirty blond hair and tanned skin, (which would gain him some sponsors) but other than that, Minerva could not find any pros for Solo White in the Hunger Games.

Pretty soon, Lil, Solo, and Minerva were joined by Ember Fox.

"Blue Halloran," was called next, followed by "Blakely Lewis." Blakely worried about Loot as she took her spot on the stage and how he would cope without her, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

"Logan Hanes."

Logan sighed. Maybe I can avenge Carter, at least, he thought, if nothing else.

And finally, with a dramatic gasp, Gorralis called the name of the final tribute of District 5 for the 1000th annual Hunger Games. "Dina Edison."

Dina heard her name being called, and was not even thinking totally coherently. She heard Albert screaming. She knew something was wrong. Her name should not have been called.

And then everything went black.

Gorralis let out a high-pitched shriek, and it took the mayor a whole seven minutes (and thirty-three seconds to be exact) to calm him down enough to conclude the reaping and transport a feinted Dina to the Justice Building for her goodbyes.

**District 6:**

**Lola Briks**

A twelve-year-old girl twirled a golden blond ringlet around her finger as she glossed her lips in front of the glass mirror in her purple room in one of the largest houses in District 6.

Lola did not come from a particularly wealthy district, her father was the proud owner of one of the most successful transportation companies, and thus had a lot of money for the family.

Lola blinked her bright blue eyes a couple of times. She knew that her loving mother and father were waiting for her downstairs, as they had wanted to spend the whole morning with her before her very first reaping, but she wanted (at least for a moment or two) to stay up here and think about the situation herself.

Lola Briks was not supposed to have a shot at going to the Games. Period. In fact, her father had paid another young girl's father (who was in desperate need of the money, and clearly thought more of it than his own daughter) to Volunteer if Lola was reaped. Unfortunately, that girl (Lola found it rather saddening that she had never even known the name of the girl who was paid to give her life for her) was killed three days ago in a tragic house fire, leaving Lola with a chance to enter the Games.

She subconsciously tugged a bit at the long sleeves of the pale lilac dress that flew to her knees.

She flipped her hair one last time, before taking a deep breath, and rushing down the stairs where, her parents and little sister, Annabel, sat in the living room; none of them speaking. Lola found the silence rather awkward.

Lola had been expecting her parents to both want to hug and kiss her just from the slight slight chance that her one and only slip of paper was chosen. She had half expected Annabel (or more likely her mother or father, frankly) to burst into tears. But none of that happened.

Instead, her mother gave her a warm smile and said, "would you like to go out for ice cream, sweetheart? Annabel had wanted to."

Lola breathed a sigh of relief at not having to hear a speech on the Games and whatnot. Smiling, she nodded and followed the rest of her family out to the car. The engine revved, and Lola began to feel more relaxed. It was just a normal day. They were just a normal family going out for ice cream.

She had nothing to worry about.

Or so she thought, at least.

**Demitri Edenoff**

Demitri hobbled along hand in hand with his little sister, Rheanna.

One would think that, having had his artificial leg for a little over two years now, Demitri would have gotten used to it, and would be walking in it the same as he did before that train shattered his left leg.

Demitri, since the age of ten (upon his father's death), had been employed to fix trains with any sort of defect before they went off to who-knows-where.

He had not exactly been . . . perfect at the job at first. In fact, to be blunt, he sucked. He had made a mistake in repairing the engine, but as he tried to fix it, he did not realize that the unsuspecting train conductor had already announced that they were about to pull away from the station. Desperate, Demitri had jumped out of the train (not his best idea in history) and the train driver did not see him standing right in front of the huge transportation device.

The train rolled over and shattered his entire left leg.

Demitri could still feel that pain as every single bone in his leg was smashed to bits. He could still practically taste the blood that flew everywhere. Fortunately for Demitri, his incident was seen, and brought to the district doctor who was able to staunch the bleeding. Demitri survived, but his leg did not, and for the first two years after that, he was forced to live with just a woden staff to rely on as his left leg.

At the age of twelve, a generous Peacekeeper took pity on him and snuck him into the Capitol for proper treatment, where he received this artificial leg.

Demitri had been scared stiff of trains since his father was run over by one and killed when Demitri was younger. The injury only increased his level of fear, but what could he do? He certainly could not just leave his mother without means of supporting herself. Let alone Rheanna!

Demitri squeezed his sister's small hand tightly. His sister's olive-colored skin was soft against his own rough one.

She had been so eager to walk him to work that morning, that Demitri could not possibly resist the look in her innocent blue eyes identical to his. But Demitri made a point of insisting that Rheanna only walk him a few blocks away from his work. He had issues with his lungs from inhaling so much smoke after the incident, and, of course nothing like that would ever happen to Rheanna on his watch, but Demitri would rather be as cautious as possible with Rheanna and not let her inhale said smoke from the trains.

"Do you really have to go, Demitri?" Rheanna blinked up at him.

"Oh, you know I wish I could stay with you, Rheanna, but I have to go to work so that you and me and Mom can have money to buy things."

"I don't care about buying things," she said softly.

"Yes, but there are certain things that we need, okay?"

Rheanna nodded hesitantly, and Demitri turned her around and pointed to the straight, direct path that they had just came from. "Now you go straight there, Rheanna, you got it? We don't even need to take any turns to get home. Mom should be waiting outside for you. You got that?"

Rheanna nodded. "Run straight and go home where Mommy's gonna be waiting for me."

Good girl. And he met his grumpy looking boss (apparently he had found out a couple of days ago that the girl he paid to Volunteer if his daughter was reaped had been killed, and he had been called out of eating ice cream with his family because one of the employees had messed up. It was a wonder to Demitri how a District 6 family could be so incredibly spoiled) and filed straight passed the red-faced man, not looking to draw negative attention to himself.

**Paul Smith**

Paul and his brothers exchanged mindless chatter in the car, mostly about the farm. The Smiths were probably the only family in the district that worked on a farm. Their district's main industry was transportation, but Paul's father had worked on a farm his whole life, and now he and his two little brothers followed in their father's footsteps.

That was one of the many things Paul wished he could've asked his father before he died: how the family farm started. They did not produce a great income, and perhaps one might ask why they still kept the farm around, when the hours spent on it surely could be used somewhere else. But the answer was clear as day to Paul Smith.

It was the way that his father had supported his family, and the way that his father's father had supported his. So, though no one in the right mind would ever think that coming from a family of farmers in District 6 was natural, maybe even unbelievable, and no citizen of Panem with any self respect and money at all would buy from them. But they did sell to poor District 6 families for a cheap price, that had no other way of supporting themselves.

And it was what they had been doing for generations. It was what his father did.

Aside from that, it really made Paul feel good to know that he was helping people out. By selling his goods for barely any income, though he did not make much, he was allowing some poor child to survive.

Paul's thoughts were interrupted by an impatient clearing of the throat of one of his brothers, who, evidently, had been asking him a question.

"What, uh . . . sorry? Could you repeat the question?"

**Leon Rockchester**

"Where're you going, Leon?"

It was his little sister, Lexia.

The little girl was only seven, and her eyes were wide and filled with innocence as they met his bright, sparkling green ones.

Leon scratched his head nervously. "Well, Lexia, I'm going to . . ."

"Are you going to the meadow?"

Leon had no idea how she knew about that. He had been near positive that she never knew that Leon went into the woods to hunt rather than accepting the food served to him by the servants of their rich family.

He nodded, not wanting to lie to his little sister.

"Can I come with you?" she asked in a small voice.

Hesitantly, Leon nodded, and grasped the little girl's hand tightly.

It was not a long walk from their house out to the woods, but once there it took a while for Leon to coax Lexia away from the "cute little animals" so that he could bring her to the meadow.

Lexia stood in awe of the bright rays of sunlight reflected on the sparkling clear blue river. Of the marvelous flowers and magnificent wildlife roaming all over.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

She nodded.

Leon sat down and Lexia copied him.

Leon was glad for her company, though he had not been so sure at first as to whether or not he really wanted her tagging along. He had not come here since Eve was taken to the Capitol. No one ever knew whether they turned her to an Avox or killed her. He did not know why she was taken. Just that his little sister, who was ten at the time, was being taken away by a hovercraft.

"I remember her too, you know."

Leon was startled to be snapped out of his thoughts by Lexia's words.

"What?"

"I said I remember her too. Eve. Our sister. I could tell that you were thinking of her."

Leon was not surprised by that. Lexia had seven older brothers including him, and she knew them all very well.

Leon spoke tentatively. "Do you . . . do you miss her like I do, Lexi?"

Lexia shrugged. It was probably not the best question to spring on a seven-year-old. She most likely did not even know whether or not she missed her only sister and to what degree.

Eve would be fourteen now. Eligible for reaping. Leon could almost imagine her in five years sitting with Lexia before her little sister's own first reaping and comforting her.

But now that would never happen.

"Yes," she whispered quietly.

Neither of them said anything for a while, until Leon stood up and lifted Lexia up on his shoulders. "C'mon, Lexi. I want to show you a special kind of flower that I know you're going to love."

Lexia beamed and clapped her hands together, all the sorrow and utter mystery of mere moments before now forgotten.

**Sky Valefore**

Sky smiled cheerfully when she opened the door to find a crowd of people standing there the morning of reaping day.

Sky was pretty independent; both of her parents having to work long hours at the hospital. This allowed her to live on the richer side of the district, though, so she understood its importance.

It also meant that she could have friends over at pretty much any time and it would never bother her parents.

Sky flipped back her shoulder length blond hair and motioned for her friends to come in. She had invited them all over . . . not for a party, she wasn't the kind of person who did things behind her parents' backs like that, ( . . . usually) but that didn't mean that she didn't enjoy having small get togethers from time to time when she got the opportunity.

As everyone got themselves settled with snacks and drinks and began talking about everything from the reaping that would be taking place in just a few hours, to Tace Byers' new pet dog.

Sky batted her long, full eyelashes at one of her friends, Grayson, whom she had secretly had a crush on for months.

Grayson waved back.

Sky smiled, glad that she had so many great friends to make any day fun, even reaping day.

**Aston Jeffries and Macer Denyard**

Aston laughed happily as she and her best friend, Macer Denyard fooled around in the scrap yard.

Usually, the two came there with a group of other friends, but today it was just the two of them, and Aston was happy about that.

Macer ran away from her momentarily, and returned with a beaten, worn down tire that was missing a large chunk, as if someone had taken a bite out of it.

Aston slapped him lightly on the arm and pushed him away, as Macer laughed and jokingly attempted to fit the tire around her short brown hair.

"Stop fooling around, Macer. I need some new spare parts to work with at the shop."

Macer rolled his eyes. "Can't we just ever have some fun, Aston?" he demanded, but immediately regretted it when the girl put her hand on her hip and rounded on him.

"No, Macer. As a matter of fact we can't. You want to know why? Because I have customers who are expecting their broken, rusty pieces of crap to come home to them clean and one-hundred percent repaired, and the only reason we're in this junkyard is to find some spare parts for me to use."

Macer said nothing as he continued to look for the brake that Aston had mentioned needing, but secretly smiled to himself. He loved how strong-willed, confident, and determined Aston always was. If only she knew how much he did. If only she knew that he had been in love with her for about two years now. If only she knew how she brought out the better side to the reckless, selfish (yes, he was not afraid to admit it) that he was. But most of all, she made him happy. If only he could ever tell her that. If only he could ever claim that medium brown skin . . . that short choppy brown hair . . . those deep brown eyes, for his own.

Aston stopped Macer before either of them could get too far. "I almost forgot . . . how stupid of me. Today's reaping day. You didn't have to take any tessarae did you, Macer?"

Macer shook his head. "Father, Grandfather, and Uncle Merce all agree that they don't want me taking tessarae. And, really, why should I? We manage to scrape by, even if we're struggling, so why should I further risk my name being drawn for a death sentence?"

Aston nodded thoughtfully. "That's good. Really good. I was nervous about this year, especially since so many tributes are going to be reaped from our district. I don't want you having any more chance than necessary to be reaped."

"Thanks," Macer blushed, which, he had to admit was a thing he must have done only a handful of times in his lifetime. Aston could congratulate herself on having instigated about nine tenths of said blushes.

Aston did not ever have to take out tessarae, but, unlike his feelings towards most children who were on the wealthier side of 6, Macer was happy for her rather than jealous of her money.

The Jeffries Family Motor Repair was a shop well known throughout all of District 6.

They were famous for their uncanny ability to take a vehicle of any shape and size, falling apart and barely recognizable for what it is and turn it into a glorious beauty worthy of even the most high class Capitol citizens.

Aston touched Macer's arm gently.

"We should get back; reaping's soon."

"Didn't you want to get some stuff for the shop? We haven't found anything of much worth yet."

"Nah," Aston shrugged. "I want us to have some time to get cleaned up before the reaping. Let's just go home for now."

**Skylar Byke**

Skylar tapped her stick as she walked around her house, using it to feel her way through.

The blind girl could sense the presence of two of her four siblings; Sora and Titus.

"Need anything, Skye? I was nervous too on my first reaping day."

"I'm fine," said Skylar simply, though she did not think Sora was. The nine-year-old girl had already broken down once at the prospect of her only sister going to the Games. The two were very close.

All at once, Skylar felt her little sister launch herself at her, knocking her down upon the curtain of her light brown hair. Her walking stick flew away, and she could hear the racking of Sora's sobs.

Skylar did not know what had gotten into her sister. Sure, it was natural to be nervous for a sibling's first reaping, but not to the extent that Sora was taking it. Skylar could sense Titus shifting uncomfortably, and she felt a knot in her throat as well, when she realized that Sora was probably struggling with the idea that her father was almost never home, and her mother was almost always out drinking "special juice" and playing "go fish" with a bunch of random men.

The little girl couldn't possibly know what her mother got up to with these men when her father wasn't home, including alcohol galore, and gambling, but she seemed to figure out (not that it wasn't obvious) that her mother was always coming back woozy and staggering.

"Hey, its okay, Sora." Skylar decided not to bring up Mother, and pretend she thought Sora was just nervous about her being reaped. "I only have one ticket in there. We didn't have to take out tesserae."

It was true. The Byke family was not rich, but Skylar knew that there were much less fortunate families in Panem financially.

"Now come on," Skylar felt the strong hands of Cooper, her eldest brother, lifting Sora away as Cooper laughed at her position scrunched up on the floor, but helped her up and helped Titus scour the floor for her walking stick.

"Thanks, guys," she said, once it was returned to her, and she began tapping again, in search of her other brother, Mustang, whom she had not seen all day (well, technically she hadn't seen anyone all day).

**Reaping**

The District 6 escort was a perky but tiny little woman called Eudora Gripp, or, as she told the entire district they should call her, (evidently assuming that they were all her best friends) Dora.

Eudora was only in her third year of being escort for District 3 and could not have possibly been jumping up and down higher than she was as the speeches concluded and it was time for her to read the first name.

"Eek! I'm so excited, guys! And now, we're about to find out who the very first of the eight District 6 tributes to have to privilege and pleasure of partaking in the thousandth ever Hunger Games will be!" the little woman squealed once more.

She had a high pitched squeaky voice, was tiny, (assumed to be about 4'8) and had a scrunched up nose upon which she wore thick glasses. She had long, thin blond hair that was accented by an extravagant feathery magenta and green hat and upon her face were drawn six whiskers (three on each cheek) and there was a large black dot on her nose, drawn in with the same black crayon used to draw the whiskers.

"Sky Valefore!" Eudora exclaimed with passion.

Sky had been chatting with some friends in the seventeens section when she heard her name.

She could feel her heart sinking as she realized what was going to happen next. Where she would be going. But Sky understood the importance of putting on a good show, and knew that if there was any way that she was possibly going to survive this, it would be by remaining calm and looking strong for the cameras to gain sponsors.

Eudora giggled and clapped loudly as she jumped up and down and exclaimed in excitement, "now on to tribute number two! Aren't we all having so much fun? And ooh, Sky, you are just going to love the Capitol! Everyone does!"

"Demitri Edenoff," she said, still beaming.

Demitri could not truthfully say that this came as a total surprise, given his luck so far, but he was not expecting it at all.

But silence is defiance, so Demitri remained calm and limped up to the stage.

Eudora squealed once more. She tried to read the name on the next slip of paper she drew, but seemed to have been stricken with a severe case of the giggles, and it took her a full five minutes to stop both the giggles and the hiccups that came shortly after them.

"Paul Smith."

Paul could tell that his shock was visible, but soon shrugged it off and brought his features to a small smile. Who knows, maybe he could even win this thing. Then his family would be safe and well off and he would be well known and loved as a Victor. Maybe even the Ultimate Victor . . .

"Now the tribute is . . . Skylar Byke!" Eudora announced in elation. The ecstasy in her voice made it seem like her dead grandfather had come back to life, not that she had just chosen an innocent little girl to fight to the death for the pleasure of her own people.

"Did someone call my name?" Skylar asked the girl standing next to her.

The girl mumbled a yes and said she was sorry. Skylar thought the girl would have a pitying look on her face. At that moment, Skylar was glad she could not see the girl. She did not want to see this girl pitying her.

"Lola Briks."

Lola let out a scream and let the tears flow down her face shamelessly. She racked with sobs and took staggering breaths. She did not know what to do. She didn't want to die! Lola stood there unmoving until two Peacekeepers came in and dragged her up to the stage.

There was a time when most tributes had to be brought up by Peacekeepers centuries ago, but nowadays most tributes went up to the stage on their own when their name was called.

"Now, don't cry my dear," said Eudora. "You're going to have so much fun over the next few weeks!" The little girl was a couple inches taller than her, and Eudora had to reach up to pat Lola's head in a "reassuring" manner.

"Only three more tributes left. Really a pity isn't it? I just love being here in District 6! Alrighty then, without further ado . . ." Eudora giggled once more as she read out the name. "Aston Jeffries."

Aston remained silent and forced herself to stay strong. She figured that if she was being sentenced to an almost imminent death, she might as well go down with a fight. Aston immediately drew the attention of the cameras to her father, now looking at her grief stricken, who was wheelchair bound due to a motor accident of three years ago. She hoped the sponsors would sympathize with him and, by default, her. Aston took a deep breath and gave Eudora the best smile she could manage given the circumstances of being reaped for the Games, and gave the crowd and the cameras a wave.

"And now the final tribute!" Eudora clapped loudly.

"Scottson Auton!"

Macer saw Aston standing there. Up on that stage. He knew where the people standing on that stage were going, and it was not a good place. And Aston was one of them. She was going to the Hunger Games.

"I Volunteer!" he cried in utter desperation. It was the only way for him to make sure that Aston got out alive.

Eudora was simply euphoric at Macer Volunteering. She jumped up and down and hugged both him and Aston (as he told him that she was his best friend, though did not mention that she was his true reason for Volunteering, instead saying that he just wanted to win and thought he could) and yipped with glee at the eight tributes of District 6 for the 1000th annual Hunger Games.

**A/N: Yay! Finally done! Don't forget to review, it gets you 10 points! I also really really want to hear your favorite tributes so far, and you'll get an extra 5 for that!**

**Sorry if I changed your character up a little bit.**

**We're halfway done with the reapings now :D I'm so excited!**

**I hope you liked it though, and please review and tell me which characters you liked best so far!**


	5. Reapings: Districts 7-9

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games!**

**A/N: Thank you so so much to all the lovely reviewers of the previous chapter! I love hearing from you guys, and I really really appreciate you taking the time to review and let me know what you thought of the chapter :) Here's the next one and I hope you guys like it and please review :)**

**District 7:**

**Samanna Phillips**

Samanna sighed as she drew her ax to the tree once more. Since it was reaping day, she did not strictly have to be there, helping Dad cut down trees. And her twin sister, Jessille, was not to be found within a five mile radius of the place where the girls and their older brother, Roge, had been helping Dad cut down trees to make his living for a good part of the past ten years.

Dad did fine on his own. He did not really need any of the kids to help him out. Well, maybe Roge, but definitely not the girls who were both still of school age.

But Samanna and Jessille needed it themselves. They had lost their mother to an obscure illness when they were seven. When she was chopping wood, Samanna thought of nothing but her ax and the bark before her that said ax was about to collide with.

"Why don't you take a break, Sam?" It was Roge. He flexed his muscles as he tapped her on the shoulder.

Samanna folded her scarred arms across her chest in a pout. "I'm not a child, Roge. I can decide for myself when I need to take a break."

And with that, she gave him a look of dismissal, and Roge left her alone, not even ruffling her blond hair like he usually did when they parted. Samanna had gotten quite good at her intimidating look. She was quite proud of it in fact.

When, a minimal few moments later, however, Samanna was approached by Dad, she felt herself softening.

He came up to her and locked his brown eyes with her green ones. The very same green that had once belonged to a woman by the name of Anita Phillips. And Samanna offered Dad a smile.

For an awkward moment, neither father nor daughter spoke. Finally, Dad cleared his throat. "You know, Samanna, Jessille's at home; sleeping late. I think maybe you should go join her there. I can tell you're nervous. It's reaping day and you have every right to be. But I also know that you still miss her and that look on your face is not just about nerves. It never really is. Go, Sam. Put on something pretty. You don't have to live out the rest of your life hiding in the forest."

Samanna said nothing, but nodded solemnly. Jessille would be thrilled at the prospect of finding Samanna a dress to wear somewhere is her closet.

She supposed it couldn't hurt to get away from the forest for a while. Maybe Dad was right. She supposed that she would rather be just hanging and relaxing with Jessille, than chopping wood with Dad and Roge for what could possibly be all of eternity. Maybe she just needed to branch out a little more.

**Conan Redfeer**

"Conan Redfeer, you have no idea what a disappointment you are to the entire family!" snapped Viviane Redfeer. "I have said this many times before, and I expect to continue with it until it is proven inaccurate: I am ashamed to be your mother."

Conan did not speak, but caught the eye of his father, who was jogging to keep up with Viviane's fast pace as she led the group out from Conan's school, and the man winked.

He and his best friend, Zyrus (standing next to him and walking with the Redfeers) had been put to detention yet again by their teacher, and Viviane was not happy.

"Aw, give them a break, Viviane, don't be a Villain, haha, geddit?" - the boys laughed but Viviane folded her arms across her chest tightly - "just relax. I'm proud of the boys. I mean, who doesn't like a good laugh? And what better way to get one then by painting your English teacher's entire office red?"

Viviane was fuming, her husband added to the Conan and Zyrus, "good job on the detail with that prank, boys."

"I heard that!" his wife shrieked. "And this is by no means a "good job," you are in serious trouble young man," she pointed a finger accusingly at Conan. "And don't you go thinking that you're off the hook either, Oakley," she rounded on Zyrus. "I'm going to be having a word with your mother about this."

Mrs. Oakley could surely not be quite as hateful to her son as Mrs. Redfeer was to hers, at least in Conan's opinion.

"Davy, has the girl dressed herself?" Viviane demanded of her husband, Davy.

She was referring to Conan's older sister, Dani.

"How has Dani been, anyway?" asked Conan, "it's been quite some time since I've seen her before this last prank," he said with a dramatic sigh. "Hey, Zyrus! I got a great idea for next week; we've been lacking great pranking material lately . . ."

Viviane gave Conan a scornful look, but he chattered on, even as the three Redfeers along with Zyrus reached the car.

"Hey! It's reaping day isn't it? It's kinda cool don't ya think, Zyrus? We're like, real teenagers now! Of course I'm really hoping that we don't get picked . . . that would be so scary! And especially with nine tributes being reaped from seven. My sister's been worrying about me being reaped. That's not gonna happen though, right Zyrus?"

Zyrus merely nodded, and listened attentively to Conan's non-stop chatter like always.

**Terro Mavas and Sapphire Evena**

Sapphire got up for a few moments and jittered around, trying to rid herself of the excess energy she always seemed to possess.

Her hair fanned out behind her and she blew her bangs away from the eyes of a bright green that were plainly seen against the background of her tanned skin.

Her friends all seemed to have the giggles at the moment, especially the twins, Jasmine and Willow Mavas. Next to their identical black hair and eyes, tanned skin, and heavily arched eyebrows with a splash of freckles, the bright blue eyes of their younger sister, Rosemary could be noticed a mile away (by Sapphire, that is). Clutching their sides next to the Mavases at a joke of Willow's, were Sakly and Rula, Sapphire's other friends.

They were all younger than her sixteen years, the twins being both fifteen, Rosemary twelve, Sakly fourteen, and Rula thirteen, but that never mattered much to Sapphire. She had fun in their company.

When Sapphire finally calmed down her body and released some of its everlasting overload of energy, she was able to sit down and contribute to the girls' conversation.

Their voices had turned solemn, and Sapphire knew immediately why.

"Don't worry, Rose," said Sakly with a little more confidence than one would assume of the little girl. "You're not going to be reaped. You'll be just fine."

"Promise?" asked Rosemary in a small voice.

Sakly opened her mouth to speak, but shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, Rose but that's not something that I can absolutely promise."

"The odds are in your favor, though," said Sapphire thoughtfully. "Terro took out tesserae for your whole family, so that you don't have to worry about this."

Jasmine and Willow nodded. They were evidently feeling guilty about their older brother taking tesserae for them, when they were fifteen already; not such little girls like Rose entering her first reaping with the right to be terrified.

Rula touched Jasmine's shoulder kindly. "Hey, Terro wants the best for you guys. He'd never let you take tesserae."

Jasmine shrugged, but Willow nodded in understanding.

And, speaking of Terro, Sapphire could spot his 6'0 figure approaching the girls with a kind expression. He blinked his deep brown eyes. "Willow. Jasmine. Rose. Time to go. We all have to get ready for the reaping in a couple of hours and the boys and Lorra are waiting for us. The boys have been worrying about you guys."

The Mavas girls hugged Sapphire, Sakly, and Rula goodbye and wished them good luck at the reaping before following their brother on the short walk home.

Before he turned around, Terro caught Sapphire's eye and held it. When his gaze finally wavered, and he looked down, abashed, Sapphire could feel her cheeks fill with color. What had just happened?

Sapphire gave Rose one more quick hug and wave (pointedly averting Terro's watchful stare) and the girls and their older brother continued on.

"How are you feeling about today, Rose?" Terro asked once Sapphire and the others were out of earshot.

Rosemary shrugged. "Alright, I guess. I just. Just don't . . ."

"I get that. Don't worry though. Any of you," he fixed each of his sisters with a look of care. "We're all going to be fine."

Nobody answered. The quartet walked on. Finally, Jasmine reached up and put a hand on her brother's shoulder.

"How many tickets do you have in the bowl this year, Terro?" she questioned.

The boy did not answer.

**Sylvie Winters**

Sylvie put her book down when she noticed the expectant looks on her many sisters' faces.

"I said, what do you think, Sylvie?" said Alyss in an annoyed voice as she pinned up the mayor's wife's dress with her delicate little seamstress hands.

Sylvie had been reading up about the environment in her oldest sister, Alyss's, little shop where she sewed clothing and fixed them up for the district. The shop was closed because of reaping day, but Sylvie and her sisters loved going in there to chat. Her brothers were doing a similar thing, but at their house.

Alyss was telling her sisters about the boy she had met that day, who complimented her eyes and winked at the flip of her hair. She wanted to know all their opinion's on the matter, and whether they thought he wanted to pursue a relationship with her.

Sylvie rolled her eyes a little at her sister. Alyss was twenty, but sometimes seemed less mature than fourteen-year-old Roselyn or twelve-year-old Maggie.

"I don't know, Lyss. What did everyone else say again?"

Maggie sighed. "C'mon Sylvie! Can't you pay attention to the conversation?"

Sylvie smiled at them all and nodded. She caught the eye of her youngest sister, Ruby, and smiled at the little girl who returned the gesture and climbed into Sylvie's lap.

She shrugged at Alyss. "I guess so. You're pretty, Alyss. I'm sure he wouldn't say no to an invite to a date from you, even if he had not been intending it."

"Maybe you're right. I just don't know." Alyss flipped her long mane of auburn hair dramatically and looked over at the analog clock hanging on the wall behind her cash register.

"Oh goodness!" she exclaimed. "I'm supposed to be the responsible one here, aren't I?"

Sylvie laughed and Alyss shrugged. Sylvie shared a room with Alyss, and had first hand experience at her lack of responsibility. Especially when it came to keeping track of time.

"Dad'll have a cow if we're not back soon."

Alyss sighed. "Alright, girlies, we'd better be getting back." She set down her needle and thread with the promise of resuming the next day.

"Is today reaping day?" questioned Ruby in a small voice on their way home.

The little girl did not exactly know for sure what the day entailed, but she did know that it was not something to look forward to.

When no one answered, Ruby tugged on Sylvie's sleeve.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, Ruby, it is."

**Adonis and Alvara Edele**

"Fancy seeing you here, Father," said Alvara with mock casualty as Father approached her with a trembling lip at her job as a lumberjack.

"A-Alvara . . . how many times must I tell you? You are supposed to be a fine young woman, not some sort of savage hanging around like a man as a lumberjack."

Alvara merely clucked her tongue.

"Well, Alvara?" he demanded. "How many times?" Father tapped his foot impatiently.

Alvara shrugged. "How should I know? Fifty? Sixty? Something of that sort."

"Sometimes I wonder if you switched places with your brother somehow before birth even two years before his."

Father looked up and down at Alvara's hair cropped boy-short and his expression filled with fury. He had been like this ever since their mother died of cancer: obsessed with what Alvara and her younger brother, Adonis can and cannot do or say based on his stereotypical vision of men and woman.

Alvara always laughed when Adonis pranced around the house with his long grown blond hair and fancy clothing. Father never hesitated to point out that, to someone who had never met either of them, they could pass for each other more easily than themselves.

"Get in the car," Father commanded. Alvara put her hands in the pockets of her corduroy slacks and made a point of running a hand through her short blond hair which was able to be done in a split second due to its shortness.

After a moment, however, she did as she was told (for once) and got into the passenger seat of Father's car.

Neither father nor daughter spoke throughout the duration of the car ride: each daring the other to speak. But neither did.

When the car pulled into Father's driveway, he got out of the car swiftly, and proceeded to circle around to the other door, open it graciously, and reach out a hand to help Alvara out.

If he thought she was going to accept his hand and elegantly step down to the driveway, he clearly never met her.

Instead, Alvara, at the height of 6'0", clambered into the backseat (not without banging her head on the ceiling of course) and jumped out the back door opposite the one Father had hanging open for her.

Adonis squeaked and hugged Alvara tightly when she came home.

"Bro, you know I love you," she gently pushed him away. "But you've really got to stop hugging me every time you see me."

Adonis blushed scarlet and Alvara immediately felt bad. "Hey don't worry about it, Adonis. Sorry about that, I really didn't mean it! Hey, to make up for this, I'll even let you go pick out one of the dreadful things Father bought me that are in my closet, still with the tags. I'll even try it on."

"Will you wear the dress to the reapings?" asked Adonis hopefully.

"No."

Adonis shrugged. "Alright then, Vara." And he turned to dash up the stairs.

Before Adonis could move, he froze at the sound of a clearing of the throat.

But when Father opened his mouth to speak, neither child listened. Adonis darted up to Alvara's room to dig through her closet for the dress he was going to force her into, and she herself let out a belch and walked straight passed a disturbed Father and into the kitchen.

**Riley O'Connor**

"I love you, Terra." Riley had tears in his eyes as he faced his wife of one year. "I always will love you no matter what."

The tears were ones of joy, which Terra answered with a smile. The two young lovebirds were all of eighteen-years-old, and already had a daughter, a little baby girl, Wren.

Wren was in her highchair, waving her arms merrily and flinging around the carrot mush that Terra was trying to feed her.

Riley rose from his spot at the breakfast table across from Terra and Wren and crossed the table to be with them.

At 6'4", his standing figure towered over Terra's sitting one, and he wrapped his arms around her neck.

Terra put down the spoon for a minute and whipped around to face him. "I love you, Rye," she whispered. "I'm just so happy that we're here. That we're together."

Riley nodded too and leaned in towards her. He was just going to peck her lightly on the cheek before he left for the few hours of work he had chopping wood before the reaping, but Terra surprised him, by standing up and grabbing his face in her hands.

Rye kissed her passionately, and let her lips mold to fit his.

"Take that with you, Rye. Today, forever, and always."

Riley chuckled. "What's with all the . . . intensity today?" Terra frowned. "Not that I mind!" he quickly redeemed himself. "In fact, I'd love for us to be able to do this everyday, just . . ."

Terra shrugged. "I don't think I'll be seeing you again before the reaping. I just wanted to remind you before then just how much I love you."

Rye nodded and Terra laced her fingers through his.

"I have to go, Terr, love you."

Their lips met once more, but only for a few seconds, as Rye did not want to be at risk of losing his job that supported himself and the two most important people in the world to him, which just so happened to be the only other two people in his house at the moment.

**Sam Conner**

"What are you doing home?" Sam asked lightly, at the surprising sight of her father standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

"I just thought you might want me to be here, you know . . ."

Sam smiled sweetly. "Thanks, Father."

She gave him a hug which was slightly awkward at first, but he appreciated greatly.

Father was almost never home, so Sam had pretty much been supporting herself since Mother committed suicide after Sam's brother was killed in the Hunger Games three years ago.

She took on a job at a lumber factory, and was surviving just fine on her own, (though she missed both Nat and Mother terribly) but it was still nice whenever she got to see Father. It made her feel like she was part of a real family that was close and loved each other more than anything.

She once had been, and she supposed that she sort of still was . . . just not really. All the same, it was nice whenever Father was able to be home.

"So, Sam, how're faring on your own?" Father gulped and clamped a hand over his mouth, as if thinking that he had asked the wrong question.

Sam smiled at him as if she had not noticed a thing. "Let me tell you all about it . . ."

**Reaping**

"Terro Mavas!" announced Leo Verkin, District 7's escort once the speeches concluded. Leo was a stout man with tanned skin and elfin features. His spiky hair had been dyed a bright pink with red and purple streaks sticking out all over, and he was dressed in a royal purple robe.

Terro was not surprised. He had almost expected his name to be called. Actually, he had been very much expecting it. How could he not with the odds so against him, considering the amount of tesserae he took out for himself and his six younger siblings.

Leo cleared his throat to break up the outcries of Jasmine, Willow, and Terro's mother and other younger siblings.

Leo raised an eyebrow. "Adonis Edele."

Adonis could feel all color drain from his face. As if in a daze, he subconsciously walked up to the stage where he knew he was expected.

Alvara punched the air. Not Adonis! How could she just let him be sent to the arena. He didn't have what it takes to survive. But she did have what it takes to protect him.

"I Volunteer!" she called loudly after Birch Oakley's name was called.

Adonis finally snapped out of his trance when he realized where he was, and that his sister was standing next to him.

Crap! What had she done?

Leo clamped a hand on Alvara's shoulder and looked up and down from her boy-cut hair to her toned muscles, to her white button-down shirt and khaki slacks.

"You look like a strong competitor, my boy. That was your logic behind Volunteering, I presume."

Alvara clenched her fists tightly together. How dare the bastard call her that!

She drew her fist back and pushed it forward with full force so that it collided with Leo's (no doubt) surgically modified nose.

"I'm a girl!" she shouted, aiming a kick at the man, aiming a kick to his chest. "I'm Alvara Edele: Adonis's goddamn sister!"

Alvara leapt for him, overcome with rage, but Adonis restrained her. "Careful, Alvara, dear. What did we say about getting into fights?"

Alvara gave Leo one last scornful look, but let it pass and he continued with the calling of names as if nothing had happened.

"Samanna Phillips," joined the tributes, followed by "Sylvie Winters."

"Conan Redfeer," read Leo from the slip of paper he had just drawn.

Conan blinked. He was shocked. It took him a few moments before he remembered that the sound of his name meant that he was to go meet Leo onstage.

Conan unglued his feet from the ground and met the man's wide smile to reveal a set of pearly white top teeth and gold bottom ones.

Once he made it up there, he put on his usual cheery smile and waved proudly to the cameras. Look on the bright side, he told himself. Look at all these new friends you're going to be making!

"Sapphire Evana."

Sapphire was shocked. There were certainly people with more names in the bowl at her. There were plenty of people in the district like poor old Terro who could have easily been chosen instead of her.

But she did have some training for the Games, most of the district anyway, so she really had no valid reason to complain.

She was born in District 2, and there she trained from ages seven to eleven, when her father was transferred to District 7 because of his work, but she did still have those four years going for her.

It was more than poor little Conan, that adorable little boy, or the (odd . . . Sapphire was just going to leave it at that) Edele twins. More than those two girls, Samanna and Sylvie that were both just reaped.

More than Terro. She felt horrible that he would be going to the Games. She knew the boy and he did not deserve this at all. She vaguely wondered whether, if he had permitted one of his little sisters to take tesserae, if one of their names would have been called instead of his. Could Sapphire have gone into the arena with one of her best friends? She hated the idea of going in with their brother, let alone them.

Sapphire walked up to the stage, and though she stood next to Conan, she gave Terro a reassuring smile. (Or, at least, what she thought was reassuring, though she could not be exactly sure what was on her face as she was still trying to get over the shock of her name being chosen).

"Riley O'Conner."

Rye nodded his head, trying to keep his feelings in check. He wouldn't let his face betray any emotions just now! He refused! He wouldn't even look at Terra or Wren: it was just too painful.

And finally, "Sam Conner."

Sam was emotionless; like the walking dead as she uneasily trudged up to the stage.

Behind her, her father was beyond shock. Beyond fear even. He fell to the ground and his scream pierced the ears of the district, but particularly the ears of Terro, Adonis, Alvara, Samanna, Sylvie, Conan, Sapphire, Riley, and Sam. All of whom understood beyond what the others in the district could even begin to comprehend, the emotion behind the scream.

As if by coincidence, baby Wren began to cry at that very moment. A loud bitter cry unlike that of most babies. And her cries mingled with John Conner's and were soon put to silence by Leo ordering the Peacekeepers to stop the noise.

And henceforth, these nine teenagers became the tributes for District 7 in the 1000th annual Hunger Games.

**District 8:**

**Colleen Reyna and Jesse Tanner**

"Lena you look pwetty!" Colleen's baby brother, Dusty giggled at his big sister.

She smiled at him. "Thanks, Dusty."

If only he knew what exactly she was getting dressed up for.

She thought she did look pretty that day. Her dress was off-white and flowy. It reached her mid-calf and there were light blue daisies decorating the skirt. The blue of the flowers brought out her icy blue eyes, and her pallor skin was not so noticeable against the off-white.

"Aren't you gonna tell me I look pwetty too, Lena?" Dusty seemed offended. Colleen actually had to bite her lip to refrain from bursting into laughter.

"You're right, Dusty, how very rude of me. You look very cute today."

Dusty cleared his throat. Lena rolled her eyes. "As usual."

Dusty beamed.

Lena laughed. Dusty was the poster-child of an attention hog. She hoped he would outgrow it as he got older. But at the age of four, it was just plain adorable.

The two were sitting on the tiny, creaky bed that Lena shared with her sister, Emmy. Dusty was on Lena's lap and she was hugging him tightly.

Though Dusty did not understand the meaning of that day, Lena liked to draw support every year before the reaping from his innocence. She hoped beyond hopes that she or her siblings eligible for reaping (this year that would just be her and Emmy) would not be taken away from their family that she loved beyond all else.

Emmy, Mother, and Colleen's oldest brother, Austin were at work as usual. They all had to take on many different jobs to keep the family going (and they were still barely getting by).

Dusty was looking up at Lena with big blue eyes; ever so curious.

"Lena?" he questioned gently.

"Hm?"

"Lena, what did Jesse mean when he said that you onwy have ten dis year?"

Colleen knew what he was talking about; ten reaping slips. She usually had to put in about forty because of the large amounts of tesserae she took out.

She smiled.

"Oh, that's nothing, Dusty. Nothing you have to worry about. Jesse was just talking about a-uh . . . a game that he and I like to play."

Dusty mulled that over for a little while, then seemed satisfied with the answer and shrugged.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door at that moment. Then another. Then another.

She knew instantly who was there. Only Jesse was ever that impatient for her to open the door.

"Jesse's here Dusty; let's go."

She took his hand and led him into the entrance hall. There were no stairs to go down, as they could only afford one story for their house.

"Hey, Lena. Nice dress."

He winked at her. Colleen could feel herself blushing. Stop blushing! she ordered herself. Why did Jesse's mere presence always have to make her go red?

"Loving the hair too," he commented.

The blond haired girl blushed more furiously still.

She knew he was referring to the red, blue, and green hair wrap that he had watched attentively as she spent a good half hour weaving it into her hair, and the two streaks (one of black, the other blue) that she had dyed last week.

Once her cheeks calmed down, Lena laughed. "Thanks."

She didn't know what to feel about Jesse. Sometimes she thought she liked him, but she never had the guts to say anything to him.

Was it really bad though if there was just something in those bright hazel eyes; that chopped dirty blond hair; that perfect tan that made her want to never see him go? What was so bad if she couldn't help but smile at just about everything he said?

"So sweetheart, you just gonna let me wait here?"

"Oh!" Colleen suddenly realized that Jesse was still standing in the doorway and she ushered him inside.

Wait! Did he just call me sweetheart? Did that really mean anything though? Jesse flirted with just about every girl in their year. Actually more like pretty much every human being of the female specimen that he ever spoke to. It was just simply the way he talked.

But this felt different. Sweetheart.

She chatted lightly and happily with Jesse, whilst Dusty ran off to play with his friend, Conner.

Colleen beamed at Jesse. Crush or no crush, she couldn't help but smile whenever he was around.

**Alixa Kirk**

"Nice face, bitch."

"Nice boobs, bitch," Alixa countered, rendering the bastard of a teenage boy that had just insulted her speechless.

He was a rude, arrogant jerk. She knew him from school, and the two had never gotten on well.

After the accident where she got that horrendous scar that crossed her face, his ditaste for her had only increased.

How much did she care, though? Zero, that's how much. After all, how much effect should loser bastards like Jorgan Paisley have on her life? Zero, that's how much.

She did not have many friends. None, actually. No family either, she lost them all when she was thirteen in the same house fire that gave her her scar.

Not that she cared . . . Right?

Okay, so maybe that part was a lie. She did care. She did miss her parents and two sisters like hell. But there was nothing she could do about that. And, to be honest, she really could have used a friend, not just scores of idiots judging her based on the scar. But there wasn't a heck of a lot she could do about that either.

So she was stuck. Stuck flipping her glossy raven black hair over her shoulder and avoiding eye contact with everyone she saw.

And it wasn't even her fault. She didn't even blame the fire. That had taken out her family, sure, and it had given her the scar.

But it was those jerks like Jorgan Paisley who made fun of her for it and pretended as if it defined who she was that were really at fault.

**Fiona Saxon**

"Fiona, dear, help me up." Fiona heard the creaking voice of Grandmother and leapt into the living room where the elderly woman was sitting. Her wild red curls bounced about as she ran and she folded her arms across the chest of her sweatshirt.

Fiona gently lifted her grandmother up by the arm and looped her arm through that of the elderly woman as they walked, ever so slowly, to the Grandmother's room where Fiona knew she wanted to go. They did not have to ascend the staircase, because when they built the house they had purposely put Grandmother's room on the first floor so that it would be easily accessible to her given her fragile condition.

The young girl let the old woman down slowly onto the rocking chair that was swaying back and forth in the corner of the room, and Grandmother let out a sigh.

"You're just like your mother, you know, Fiona."

Fiona blushed a little and smiled.

She loved it when Grandmother talked about Mother. Especially when comparing she, Fiona, to her.

When she was just a little girl, her mother ran away, which had given her the sense of distrust she now possessed. Her father remarried a woman called Lacey. The incessant woman was in the kitchen, Fiona could hear her complaining to father about Fiona even from behind the closed door of Grandmother's bedroom, and could tell even without hearing that Father was simply nodding in agreement of everything Lacey said. That was just the way it worked.

"She had pretty red curls and bright blue eyes too," said Grandmother. "And just a tiny splash of freckles, only just visible if you look very closely."

Fiona smiled again. She longed to know more about her mother. She wished she were here and not stupid Lacey.

"She was a joker, just like you," continues Grandmother. "And she dabbled in painting, though her talent lay more in sculpting."

Fiona was silent for a moment, thoughtful. She had never really thought that her mother was so much like her. Both in looks and personality. Mother was even an artist just like her! (Though Mother, as Grandmother said, was more of a sculptor while Fiona was a painter.)

"Is Joseph coming to pick you up for the reaping, Fiona?"

Fiona nodded.

Joseph was her best friend in the whole world. She pretty much spent all her time with him or Grandmother. There wasn't really anyone else that she wanted to spend any of her time with. No, it was always just Joseph or Grandmother. Or a book or canvas and paints if we're going to get into inanimate objects.

Joseph taught her how to fight. She did not know how he knew in the first place, but he spent hours on weekends working with her and showing her how to wield a sword and aim a bow and arrow.

She always asked him where he learned it all, but he was secretive about it. That only made her more curious.

"Joseph should be here soon, I'm going to go wait outside for him. Goodbye, Grandmother. See you after the reaping."

Fiona leaned down and gave her grandmother a kiss on top of her white hair.

"Fiona?" Fiona turned around to face her grandmother, growing slightly impatient.

"Yes, Grandmother?"

The elderly woman winked.

"Give Joseph my love."

Fiona laughed and danced off, careful to rush passed Father and Lacey so that they could not comment on anything they happened to find wrong with her at that particular moment.

**Harmony Alora**

Two violet eyes drooped as a girl of eighteen picked at the gravel on the bare streets of District 8.

Harmony had been living there for three years now, and one would think that she would be used to it.

She wasn't.

One would think that she would have long forgotten those people she used to call her parents.

She didn't.

They had kicked her out when she was fifteen. She had barely scraped by, fending for herself and only finding the stray animal or plant here and there for food.

Abusive alcoholics: that's what they were. Rye and Acacia Alora. Otherwise known as her parents.

She had once been a sweet little girl. Kind. Caring. Now there was just her, the pavement, and the desperate need for survival that could barely be satisfied.

There was once a time, oh so long ago, when they were real parents to her. When they loved her. When they acted like it.

But that had all changed eleven years ago. She had only been seven at the time, her brother only twelve. But the universe had been cruel. It had chosen him to represent District 8 in the Hunger Games. And it had chosen him as one of twenty-three to be killed in it.

It drove her parents passed sanity into the realm of the insane. Crazy. Alcoholic. Abusive. And the list went on.

Today was reaping day again. Exactly eleven years since the day that Harmony's life had changed forever in so many ways. She had lost her brother. Lost her loving relationship with her parents. Lost her cheerfulness. And a few years later, lost her home.

She just wanted to be loved like she once had. Though that seemed a pretty lofty goal for Harmony given her current position.

She was wearing the same clothes as always; there was nothing else she had to change into, so getting dressed up for the reaping was not even possible, let alone desired.

Harmony gently laid her back down. She knew that the pieces of gravel from the sidewalk were accumulating in her hair, but she didn't care. She knew that someone could step on her if they happened to be walking by, but that she didn't care much about either; it wouldn't kill her.

She let her eyelids flutter to a close as she lay her arms in her lap. A couple of hours of sleep would do at the moment . . . She really needed them . . . And the arms of sleep were open and waiting for her so welcomingly . . .

**Poppy Marie Edwards**

"All ready to go, Pops?"

"Mm-hm!" Poppy smiled brightly at her oldest sister Lily.

Lily shifted her one-year-old daughter, Ella, to her other arm.

"Oh, you are just adorable!" Poppy cooed at her little niece who was now fast asleep. "Seriously, I just love this little jumper!"

Ella was wearing her new little reaping dress; bright red with a blue collar dotted with little flowers.

"Shh, Poppy, you'll wake her."

"Sorry! Sorry, Lily! Sorry, Ella! I really didn't mean to! I swear, I just-"

"Shh! Pops, do you ever stop talking?"

Poppy laughed, knowing from her sister's expression that she was not really mad, and was holding back a laugh as well.

Lily, Poppy, and their other sister, Rosie (and Ella of course) lived together in an apartment.

"C'mon, Poppy, we have to go."

Poppy nodded.

"Oh, don't be scared, Poppy. It's only your second reaping. You have what, two slips of paper in the bowl? You'll be fine."

Poppy nodded, though she was not quite sure.

"Shall we say goodbye to Rosie?"

Poppy sniffed, but nodded and followed the older girl into their middle sister's room.

Rosie was sitting up in bed, which Poppy took as a good sign, but she looked like she was in tremendous pain just from the effort of giving each of her sisters a light hug and kiss on the cheek.

Rosie's illness was enigmatic to Poppy, but she did know that it was fatal. Poppy blinked back her tears as she took Lily's hand.

She loved her two sisters more than anything. Anything! What would she and Lily do when Rosie was g-g-gone? She refused to even think the d-word with regard to her sister.

The three girls lived alone, their mother having died in childbirth when Poppy was born, and their father being imprisoned. He was a drug-addict and an alcoholic who also abused them when Poppy was younger. He was caught and sent to jail for it. Poppy still had little scars running up and down her arms and legs from where he whipped her. They were hardly noticeable (at least according to Lily) unless you knew that they were there, but Poppy did not really think so.

She knew that Rosie had been exempt from the reaping, due to her physical condition, but she did not think that meant that her name was not still in the reaping bowl. Rosie was fifteen, and, though she was not physically capable of being transported to the reaping, Poppy was pretty sure that her name was in the bowl, and the Capitol would find a way of bringing her to the Games if she was chosen as one of the seven tributes for District 8 that year.

"Let's go, Pops." Lily gestured for Poppy to follow her, and all three sisters blew each other kisses.

Ella was starting to wake up and let out a groan. Lily rocked her back and forth and hummed in her ear, until she drifted back to sleep and the two sisters (baby in hand of the elder) exited the apartment.

**Bree Crystals**

No sex. Period. It was still not quite sinking into Bree's head. Ever since she discovered she had HIVS, she had been staying out of guys' pants, just like she had been told to do when she started having aches and pains (though she did not listen when she was first told).

Bree ran a brush through her silky dark brown hair and sighed. She was sitting in front of her vanity table admiring her green-blue eyes, gorgeous face, and smooth skin.

There had been a time when it would never have occurred to her to have sex with any boy, let alone long to sleep with every guy in her school. She used to be a dorky loser. Braces and glasses. Frizzy hair (that sometimes she had even gotten gum stuck in) and mismatched clothing. Fat and ugly. But now she was sexy and glamorous. Seductive. Popular.

So much had changed since her days of being Brace Bree the Frizz Ball.

Boys wanted her desperately now.

She had gone on screwing spree after her breakup with her first real boyfriend of one year. She was completely broken right after the breakup, but quickly found that she was able to move on nicely.

She hugged herself tightly as she applied her ruby red lipstick.

Her room was large with a fluffy white carpet and pale lavender walls with white trim. Her vanity table had drawers and a mirror and her bed was soft and cozy.

While most of District 8 was living in poverty, Bree's parents were blessed with a life of luxury, her father having made it big by becoming the owner of the largest factory in the district. Hundreds and hundreds of people came to work in the factory every day, and Bree's father collected the majority of that earning.

She put down the lipstick and rubbed her upper and lower lips together spreading it around, back to her thoughts on the topic that had been brushing across her mind a lot of late.

If people noticed that she was not Slutty Bree anymore like she had been just a few weeks ago, they didn't say anything. Maybe they thought she still was, just not advertising the fact that she had screwed every boy in the school anymore.

She still had no problem revealing her sexy body as much as possible to the public. Maybe no one noticed that anything was wrong.

She hoped so, as she was quite embarrassed about the HIVS.

Bree blinked a few times before taking out her mascara wand. It was no use thinking about this anymore. She had a face to make up.

**Reaping**

Like his name suggests, Jones Broad was a man that was . . . well, broad. The District 8 escort was heavy-set with a beard covering half of his face, the other half being clean shaven.

He was short but his feet were some of the largest the citizens of District 8 had ever seen, and he had to curl his toes beneath the enormous shoes in order to keep them from reaching the edge of the stage once the speeches drew to a close and he began the reaping.

This was his first year as escort for District 8, their old one, a batty old woman called Aephila Rutes, having announced her retirement six weeks ago, and Jones was chosen to replace her.

"Fiiiiiiiioooooooooooooooooon nnnnnnnaaaaaaaaaaa Sssssssssssssaaaaaaaaaxooooo ooonnnnnnnnnnn."

Jones spoke slowly, as if no one in the district would be able to understand him if he didn't. His voice was deep as can be and sounded almost like a cow's moo.

"Haaaaaaaaaarmmmmmmmmmmmmmooo oooooooonnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyyyy Aaaaaaaaaalllllllllooooooooo orrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaa."

Harmony's face was blank as she walked up to the stage. That is, until she heard a cackle of evil laughter that could only belong to the woman she once called her mother, and the "boo" of the vile man known as Rye Alora.

But there was nothing she could do about her own personal fight at the moment, because as she looked up, she saw that one had broken out between Jones Broad and the mayor of District 8, Mayor Brawntford.

The mayor was apparently appalled with the horrendous job Jones was doing at his first reaping.

Brawntford smacked him lightly on the arm.

"What are you doing?" the mayor hissed.

"What do you mean?" the man sounded lost. "They told me in the Capitol that I had to read the names clearly. I was only doing what I was told."

The mayor shook his head in annoyance. "Th-this is not what they meant, okay? Just read the names normally so we can get a move on things."

Jones nodded, eager to impress Mayor Brawntford with his calling out of the next tribute's name.

"Colleen Reyna," he read, then immediately looked to the mayor for approval. The mayor nodded at Jones and shook his head at the Capitol man's ignorance.

Colleen Reyna. That was her name. The name of the blond girl with the scar above her knee in the sixteen-year-old females section.

All of the blood in her veins had frozen. Her body went cold and she attempted unsuccessfully to rub away the goosebumps that had formed on her arms as a shiver ran through her body.

Colleen Reyna. That was the name that had been called.

The whispers and murmurs of the kids all around her turned to a dissonant cacophony as they all look around, waiting for the next doomed victim of the Hunger Games marked by that tiny slip of paper to show herself. But Colleen was frozen in place. Despite all the protest her brain was giving her body, telling her to move and get on with it already, to start walking, to do something, her muscles were betraying her brain and not adhering to its protests.

The crowd parted in front of her. She knew what they were all probably thinking: this one's too week to get there on her own. We need to make a path to guide her. But that was all the better for Colleen. She didn't want to go anyway. At least she could maybe delay it now until they got themselves organized into two lines parted for her.

She received may a pitiful glance from former classmates, others, she knew, could not even hide their pleasure at the sound of her name being called. She imagined that was the general feeling of most of the district deep down. Glad that it was only the strange, weird, quiet girl that had been reaped - they didn't really know about her anyway.

She couldn't move a muscle, until her knees gave out from under her and she collapsed. Her cries were dead silent.

Jesse was running over to her, lifting her up and holding her. He whispered to her words of comfort. Telling her everything was going to be alright. Reminding her that more than one tribute could make it out of the arena that year. Reminding her that it could be her.

And he carried her effortlessly up to the stage.

Jones continues the reaping as if nothing had happened, which, according to him was probably the case, as he was anything but observant, and had not even registered what just went on with Lena.

"Jesse Tanner!" he announced proudly.

Jesse had just been smiling as he saw Lena wiping away her tears and standing up proud and strong, but now, just those two little words that came out of Jones's mouth changed everything. He was scared to look at Lena's face. Scared of what he would see in those beautiful ice blue eyes buzzing with intellect that he had come to know and love.

He risked a glance up at her and saw that her face had finally lost all hope. And he supposed that that was when his did as well.

Though there could be an upside to all of this. Maybe, just maybe, he could keep Lena safe in the arena. Maybe they could both come out alive? Who knows. But even if he, Jesse Tanner, didn't, if he was in the arena he might be able to help her, Colleen, get out of there.

"Alixa Kirk," was the next one to join Jones and the tributes so far on the stage.

Alixa's reaction was nothing like Colleen's. She was really fine for the most part. Of course she was not too keen on dying, (who was?) but it was not as though she had anyone back here to come home to that she cared about.

"Poppy Marie Edwards!" Jones was getting excited; he was nearing the end of his very first reaping, and, besides the first two mishaps with the pronunciation, in his opinion he had done quite well after that and was very proud of himself for it. And this was a very hard reaping. Only one more tribute to go, and then he could safely say that he had successfully completed his very first reaping.

Jones gave himself a mental pat on the back, while, from down below in the thirteen-year-olds section, Poppy let out cry after cry, letting the salty tears fall down her face and cloud her vision. Her face turned red and she heard the distinct sounds of the weeping that could only belong to Lily Edwards.

She had to be dragged up to the stage, once the Peacekeepers realized that she was by no means going to get there on her own.

And finally, "Bonnie Jhearn."

"I Volunteer!" It was Bree. She wanted to get rid of her HIVS and she was going to risk anything to do it.

Jones did not really know what to do with a Volunteer, (perhaps they had not told him because he would be escort for District 8) so he said nothing and simply beckoned Bree forward.

**District 9:**

**Fantasia Coole**

The butcher shop was empty that reaping day.

Her father owned the store, and Fantasia, keen on keeping away from the sight of blood. Her job was to bargain for the meat, and her best friend, (or more like sister) Phoebe, always helped her out.

Phoebe's brown curls were tied half up and, while she was bouncing up and down in impatience, Fantasia was doing the same out of excitement. Her father was coming towards her (rid of any remnants of knives, blood and/or raw meat) with a huge smile on his face.

"Hiya, Fantasy," he said kindly.

Fantasia beamed. She loved it when her father called her that.

"Well, girls, as you can see, we're not so busy right now. If you'd like you can both go back home for a little while."

Phoebe sighed in relief (she was easily bored) and Fantasia squealed in excitement. She was often hyper and excitable like this around people she knew well like her father and Phoebe.

They lived in the Victor's Village. Fantasia, being a Victor's daughter, had never known much else, and had been surprised at the shock and wonder on her friend's face the very first time Phoebe visited the large, beautiful house. Now Phoebe was just about as used to it as Fantasia was.

The girls were now both sitting on Fantasia's carpet, chatting happily, when just the woman Fantasia did not want to see decided to join them.

"What do you want, Mother?" asked Fantasia, her lips pursed.

Mother winced. "Oh, Fantasia, you know I hate it when you do this - you've set the table all wrong this morning, and I just thought you might want me to teach you the right way to do it. We have plenty of the white plates with gold trim to go around, we did not need to add in two red ones and a blue one in random spots where it was not at all symmetrical." Mother was extremely OCD.

So naturally, Fantasia strived to achieve just the opposite.

"I know," she said neutrally, her face betraying no emotions. "I just felt like it. Got a problem with that, Mother?"

"No, d-dear. It's just that I thought you might want to-"

"Well I don't," she replied, in that same neutral tone.

"Thank you for your time," she exclaimed politely, as she ushered the woman out of her room.

The door clicked shut and Fantasia bounced back to Phoebe on the carpet.

"Sorry about that," said Fantasia.

"Oh, that's alright," Phoebe replied, though she did not look quite so sure.

"Hey look who it is!" Phoebe exclaimed, pointing at the door. Fantasia had not heard it open, but, lo and behold, standing before her then were her older brother, Kane, and younger sister, Aster, hand-in-hand.

Kane was seventeen and Aster four, and Fantasia's other sister, Valley (the obnoxious brat) was eight.

Aster often clung to Kane and Fantasia, which was more than fine with Fantasia, because she was just so adorable.

Aster's ears stuck out like a monkey's, and Phoebe immediately imitated a monkey sound, like she always did for Aster's sake.

Aster giggled merrily.

Kane was tall, fit, and athletic, as was Fantasia's. His skin was deeply tanned, and his eyes were a bright blue like everyone in the family besides Valley and Mother. His hair was a short, choppy black, unlike the snowy white hair of Fantasia and Aster.

Kane cleared his throat. "We were, uh, we were just getting ready to go to the reaping, if you guys wanted to come with us."

Fantasia nodded silently, and took Phoebe's hand as the followed Kane out their bedroom door, passed many doors along the hall, down the spiral staircase, into the entrance hall, and, finally, out the oak wood door.

**Flax "Husk" Mullen**

"Husk, it's almost time for work!"

The voice was kind. Husk knew who it was: Mr. Bentley. He had given Husk a place to sleep so that Husk did not have to retain his lifestyle of hiding in the shade by day and going out to steal at night.

He had worked for Mr. Bentley harvesting grain ever since he was thirteen. The man had then took pity on Husk, and offered him a place in his home to sleep. Husk accepted the offer wordlessly by staying put after the workday was over.

"Almost forgot," Mr. Bentley scolded himself.

"Get up, Husk."

Husk obeyed. He obeyed every command he was given, especially by his boss. Every command other than to speak, that it, but Mr. Bentley was used to the strange boy being mute by now.

"Get dressed, Husk." Mr. Bentley was down the hall from Husk, but knew exactly what commands he needed to give the boy from there.

Husk did as he was told.

Mr. Bentley told him to eat a small breakfast and then asked him to go to the fields where Husk resumed his harvesting of the grain that would be manufactured shortly by Mr. Bentley's company.

He could hear the workers next to him talking. He knew just what they were talking about; it wasn't as though they were being too secretive about it. He also knew that they thought he didn't. They thought he didn't know anything.

He heard snippets of a lot of conversations that people didn't bother to whisper when he was around. He knew that Clayton Barlington's fiance had refused his offer of marriage and that Wheaten Griss thought he was in danger of being fired due to the poor feedback he had been given about his performance of the job. He even knew that the two men working next to him (though he did not even know there names as they were new to the job) thought he was a mindless idiot who Mr. Bentley had taken pity on. The latter part was true, but Husk knew that the former section of the proclamation was false. It was quite ironic how something he did know was that people thought he knew nothing. Quite ironic indeed.

Husk knew that the expression on his face was black as he stared off into the horizon. He gave the two men the slightest of head movements to acknowledge that he heard their conversation but they did not seem to notice. Or they did not seem to care. Or both.

Mr. Bentley was coming out to check on everyone. He didn't do that often. Maybe he wasn't coming to just check. Maybe he had a message for them.

"Husk today's reaping day. You can go home."

Husk stared at him blankly, unmoving.

"Go, Husk. Home; inside my - our - house. That's your home now as it's been for four years and you have to be let out early for reaping day."

Husk nodded, understanding what Mr. Bentley was saying and followed the man's pointed finger to the door of his home.

**Lauren Thresh**

Jason was twelve. Just twelve. And he had only been eight when his parents died.

Lauren was his older sister; two years older. When their parents died four years ago, the two had been taken in by their poor aunt and uncle. Their aunt and uncle were barely scraping by on their own, and now with two more mouths to feed . . . two more children to support . . . they could not manage it.

Which brought Lauren to her stream. She remembered coming out here with Mom and Dad. Dad taught her to fish and Mom would just sit there with her feet in the water, taking in the clear blue stream, the cool fresh air and the bright yellow sun. But neither of them were there now when at Lauren's stream. Neither was Jason or Aunt Trudy or Uncle Mitch. She was all alone. She speared a fish and lifted it up: trout. Supper. Most of the time, Lauren hunted for food, but today it just felt better to sit by the stream and relax, catching the occasional trout that liked to float about this stream, there wasn't much more here in the way of food; not even a whitefish or salmon to spear. But the stream was sentimental, which was far more important to Lauren that day than the food. Or at least, at that moment.

Her aunt and uncle were nice people. She loved them very much. It just wasn't the same as having a father to teach you everything you need to know and more, because he loves you so much and wants you to have that knowledge. Or a mother who's always there to hold you close and comfort you.

But they were gone. And ever since, Lauren had been doing her best, hunting and other things of the sort, to make sure Jason was okay and that he stayed alive. Because, right now, that was all that mattered. So she had vowed to do whatever she could to keep him alive. And now, here he was, he had made it to his very first reaping day. Sure, he had come to eleven reaping days before, but those had never really been real for him, even when Lauren's name was in the bowl. But now he was twelve. Now the reaping was really truly real for him. This year, he would get to experience the fear of all the other kids ages twelve to eighteen as he stood in a cramped line with all the other twelve-year-olds.

And Lauren hated the fact that he would have to experience that fear: that one moment when you think that, out of thousands of slips, yours was the one chosen. Your name was the one called. But there was nothing she could do to change that. And it broke her heart.

**Rye Kuna**

It had taken his week's earnings to buy this basket of bread, but it was worth it. Pepper deserved it.

She had been his little sister. He loved her so much, and because of her, he was able to laugh and smile, even when Father was gone and he wished Mother was. But Pepper had been born with cancer, and died. He had been brining her baskets of bread like this one ever since. Pepper had always loved bread.

That's where he got his nickname: Bread-Boy.

He was grateful for his new family. He loved them. But it was not the same as having Pepper back.

His mother had given him up when she grew tired of raising and caring for him shortly after Pepper's death.

Now the person he referred to as "Mother" was a baker, Wendy Nickel. He loved her more than he could ever love his real mother by a long-shot, and she had also adopted two other children, Crust Riley and Hallah Grace. But it was not the same thing as having a real family. It was not the same thing as having his real little sister. He needed Pepper. But she had gone to a place that she could never ever come back from no matter what.

His hair was in a long spiky ponytail which whipped back and forth as he rocked on Pepper's grave, bread basket in hand. He put down the basket and turned around. He should be going soon. Now, more like. Mother would be waiting for him, she expected him to be home, as would Crust (or as Rye liked to call him, King of Jerk Kingdom) and Hallah (or, according to Rye, Ginger, a nickname he gave her because of her curly red hair always pulled back into a braid).

He never got along with the King of Jerk Kingdom, they were always fighting either verbally or physically. Hallah was alright, but she and Rye did not mix well, as, a pessimist, he could hardly stand her upbeat, outgoing nature.

Rye's walk away from Pepper was slow like always, unlike the brisk pace he opted for when running towards her. His feet dragged on the ground, just so that he could say he was moving, though he longed to be back to the only remnant of his sister he had on earth, which, depressingly enough, was her gravestone.

He had to get back to Mother and the others, as he constantly reminded himself, in order to keep himself from stopping and turning around to visit Pepper again.

He thought he was in luck that day, he almost did not pass anyone he knew from school. Almost.

"Hey, Bread-Boy!" called one boy mockingly.

His friend elbowed him. "That's rude. It's obviously a girl. Bread-Girl!"

The two doubled over with laughter, but Rye said nothing.

"What's the matter, Bread-Girl -" it took a fit of laughter to just get over that part before the boy was able to speak again. "You just gonna walk away from us?"

He was just going to walk away from them, and he proceeded to do so without even acknowledging the boys.

**Arley Rynett**

Arley took a swig of beer and faced his gang of friends. They had been brewing it illegally on the edge of the district for a long time, and Arley joined them early in his school career. At age eighteen, he earned a small wage from the spare bottle sold here and there, but Arley and the others drank most of the beer themselves.

He technically lived with his parents and younger brother, Hop, but could almost always be found in this run down building where the gang brewed their beer and sat around drinking it.

"What d'ya think, Arley? Ya think I could do it?"

"Do what?"

"Make it out o' this place?" It was a member of the gang, Russel. Russel was always trying to come up with ways to get out of District 9. Arley did not even know where Russel was planning on going. Russel might not have known either. Maybe he was just planning on plain going. And wherever he ended up he would end up. Arley, ever the strategist, didn't think this was the most brilliant plan on Russel's part.

"No," he replied bluntly. "No, I don't. And I don't think you should attempt it. I think you should just stay right here with the rest of us. You're still only eighteen, Russel. You're still eligible for reaping. That pretty much constitutes a child."

Russel bared his teeth but said nothing, most likely knowing that Arley was right.

"So what?" asked Serg, another of their gang members. "We're just going to stay in this joint forever? Making a couple bucks a week?"

"I never said that," said Arley, flaring up. "I just think that we all ought to lay a low profile, especially considering that we were caught selling to two teenagers just last week, and I had to get us out of trouble with the Peacekeepers."

No one could argue with that.

Arley took another swig. "We have our whole lives to worry about what we're gonna do next. For now, lets just worry about the reaping. Some of us are still eligible."

**Ceres Grant**

"Ceres, sweetie pie, don't move if you don't want Mommy to mess up your braidsies."

Ceres's mother braided her long blond hair elaborately every morning.

Ceres was a well behaved girl. She never stepped out of line. She loved her mother, yes, but did the woman really need to treat her like she was two-years-old?! She was thirteen for heaven's sake.

She supposed it might have something to do with her mother having had two miscarriages.

Sure, Ceres felt bad that Mom never got those two more babies. She herself really wanted some younger siblings. But did that really mean that she, Ceres, was never allowed to grow up?

"Sorry, Mom," said Ceres, ever so polite, as her cheeks filled with color. Her cheeks were rarely their natural porcelain tone. They were almost always filled with red.

"Oh no, dear! That's quite alright. Mommy just wanted you to look extra special pretty today. I can't believe you're already in the reaping, sweetheart. You know, to me you're still just my beautiful baby girl."

I know, thought Ceres, and a little too heavy on the "baby" part. But instead, she said aloud, "my name was in the bowl last year, too. Remember, I'm thirteen."

"I know, Ceres darling. You think I could ever forget? Now let's get going, Daddy should be waiting for us and I want us all to have a nice big hug before the reaping."

Ceres nodded, not knowing how to refuse.

The Grants lived right by the town square so it did not take much walking to get to the square. But this also meant that Mom and Dad were able to shower her with countless hugs and kisses in front of thousands of people pouring into the square as they simply walked out onto their patio.

But again, there was nothing Ceres could do. Because, though she knew that she was strong and brave. But she also didn't want to say anything to hurt her parents' feelings. But one of these days she was going to crack.

**Reaping**

Eloise Lucelle had bright red hair striped with pink. It flowed to her shoulders and she was very proud of it, shaking her head this way and that to show it off to the people of District 9 (not that they cared all that much).

Like in District 8, District 9's escort was new that year. Her eyelashes had been enhanced far beyond anything seemingly remotely natural, and her eyebrows were thin and the same pink as the streaks of her hair. The white eyeliner, pink eyeshadow, and bright red lips popped out and the eyes the two liner and shadow surrounded seemed to bore into those of each and every person in the square that day.

She looked uncomfortable, stumbling around in high-heels of six inches at the very least. Her pink dress fell to her mid-thigh and bright orange buttons were strewn throughout it.

As she lifted her hands to give everyone a wave, her nails were revealed to be painted the exact shade of her dress, and they too had small orange dots on them, no doubt to mimic the buttons on the dress.

She did not seem very sure of herself; more into showing off her sense of style to the crowd.

"Fantasia Coole," said Eloise. She put one hand over her heart, and waved excitedly with the other, waiting for Fantasia.

No! Not me! It can't be! This isn't happening! But it was happening. Even as her heart screamed and shouted at herself. At Eloise. At the entire district, her face did not betray her by revealing the shock and fear she was feeling. She had to stay strong for Phoebe's sake. For Kane and Aster. For Father. Even for Mother and Valley, though not as much those last two.

Eloise seemed to think she was something very special for have gotten Fantasia up on stage and announced to the crowd that she had never expected herself to be quite so good at escorting, but clearly, she was simply marvelous.

"Arley Rynett," squealed Eloise in delight.

Arley was outraged. They just called his name! That idiot selfish woman just called his name!

Eloise tsked at Arley's lack of cooperation with her, and sent two Peacekeepers to collect him and accompany him up to the stage.

Each of the two large Peacekeepers took one of Arley's arms and he thrashed and screamed.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, you fucking bastards!" He landed a kick (where it hurts) on one of the Peacekeepers. The large man immediately countered with a punch to Arley's eye.

He cried out in pain. His eye was swelling up. He could hardly see through it, at least compared to the other eye.

The Peacekeeper had given him a black eye: not very useful to a guy about to got to the Hunger Games.

He and the other gang members often punched around with each other, and he had take punches to the eye before, especially when his friends were drunk, but not by some random bastard who had never even met him.

Arley growled, now even more angered than before.

Eloise seemed to see this as a good sign, being as he was no longer fighting back, and she read out the next name.

"Jason Thresh."

What?! thought Lauren. Not Jason! No, anyone but him.

She let out a long, high-pitched scream. She didn't care if people were staring at her. She wasn't going to let them take her little brother to die.

She had vowed to keep him alive. But now she couldn't. She had failed him. Failed her parents.

But she was wrong. There was a way that she could keep him alive. There was a way to keep her promise. She had not intended on this in any way when she swore to protect him.

But the Hunger Games was certainly something he needed protecting from. Here, in District 9, if Lauren did not hunt or fish or do anything to support Jason - even if there was no Lauren in the first place - he would still have Aunt Trudy and Uncle Mitch. But there, in the Hunger Games? Jason couldn't do it. He just didn't have in him.

But maybe Lauren did. Or maybe, it didn't even matter. Because even if she didn't, that didn't mean he did. And she swore to protect him from anything beyond him. Even if it was beyond her too.

"I Volunteer!" it was an anguished cry. She had lost just about all of the fight in her, and when she walked up to the stage, it was with an air of defeat. She would not let anything take her little brother from her. The Games definitely being included in anything.

But she also knew that there was not much of a chance for her either. At least she could try. She knew how to hunt and other things of the sort. That was at least something, right?

Eloise waited for the applause for Lauren. No one applauded. This was District 9. The Games were not a place for glory and fun. They were a place of death.

But they respected what Lauren had done and they waited in silence, nodding at the girl, hoping she got the message.

Eloise shrugged her shoulders and flipped her hair once more, before reading the next name. Being new to the job seemed to entail mispronouncing the tributes' names, or at least some of them, from Eloise's next proclamation. Or maybe it was just her nerves.

But she said, "Bree Kuna!"

"Whoa that's Bread-Boy!"

"Bree?! I knew he was a girl!"

"Bread-Girl!"

It was those same two boys that had jeered at Rye earlier.

"It's Rye . . ." he muttered.

His mind was on overdrive, attempting to fully comprehend what was going on. It was him that they were calling. His eyes snapped open. For one blissful little second, he was disbelieving of what was going on. For that one second of freedom, he thought he was okay . . . And then it him him in the face like a stack of bricks. It was him that they were calling . . . his name. He was going . . . he was going into the Hunger Games.

He walked as slowly as he could up to the stage and stood there, looking around for Mother. When his eyes found her, it was to see a woman screaming with rage, restrained by a few older women.

"Ceres Grant!" exclaimed Eloise with glee.

Ceres gulped. She knew what hearing her name meant: the Games. The Hunger Games. She was terrified. Not only for herself, but for Mom.

She felt a wave of regret engulf her at the things she had thought this morning, about Mom treating her like a child. She was scared for Mom. She did not want the woman to lose the only child she had left; the only one she had the opportunity to raise as her own.

Ceres loved Mom and Dad. She would miss them. She would be going to the Hunger Games.

But how would they react? Would they be okay? Would Mom fall apart without her baby to coddle. With her baby being forced to grow up far beyond the girl had wanted.

Ceres took a shaky step forward. Then another. Then another. When finally, she reached the stage she felt her cheeks filling with color once again, and, finding her parents standing in the crowd, she blew them each a kiss.

Mom was screaming. Dad was holding back his wife who looked like she wanted to run up and strangle Eloise, though he too had tears streaming down his face.

Ceres tried to tell them to be strong. She could do this. She had too. She would have to get back to her parents for her own sake and for theirs.

"Flax Mullen!" called Eloise. He was the final tribute. Everyone looked around. Confused. Who was Flax? No one had ever even heard of him.

The Peacekeepers knew who Flax was though, and surrounded Husk and lifted him up to the stage.

Husk could feel something welling up inside of him, inside his head; he didn't know what was going on. Confusion, it was called. Husk didn't know much about it. He hadn't felt it in a long time. Hadn't felt anything for that matter. The twinge of bemusement was gone as soon as it had come, and he went back to staring off into space as he always did.

Eloise jabbered on about what an honor it was for all six of them to be standing there today, about to go the Capitol as District 9's tributes, but Husk said nothing. He did nothing. He just stood there and stared off to wherever his eyes took him.

Eloise seemed to finally notice that Husk was acting strange. He was not fearful or shocked or even trying to be strong like the other tributes. He was emotionless. Just sort of . . . there.

"And would you be Flax Mullen?"

Husk did not move nor did he speak.

Rye spoke up. "No one knows anything about him," he explained. "Everyone just calls him 'Husk.' I suggest you did to or you won't get any response from him."

Rye recognized Husk from around the district. He empathized with the older boy. Husk was an outsider like himself, Rye knew.

Husk never spoke to anyone, but Rye understood him to some extent (at least more than the others did), and sometimes gave him an encouraging nod when he passed Husk working for Mr. Bentley. He understood what it was like not to fit in like a normal teenager, though Husk never seemed to recognize Rye's presence.

"Well, there you have it, District 9! Here are your six wonderful tributes for the one-thousandth annual Hunger Games!"

Eloise clapped and cheered, though no one joined her in doing so and flashed a smile of perfectly whitened teeth as she flapped her hair around once again for the crowd to see and batted her eyelashes.

**A/N: Whew! Another one finally done! Only one more chapter of reapings to go :) I have a poll on my profile about the tributes in this story from the first two reapings, but I'll be taking that down soon.**

**Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, and please please please review!**

**Remember, ten points for a review, and another 5 if you give me some favorite tributes from this chapter and/or overall so please please please do that :)**

**Thanks for reading this! Only one more chapter of reapings to go :) I'm so excited!**


	6. Reapings: Districts 10-12

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games!**

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I really appreciate it and love to hear from you!**

**Before you read the next chapter, just note please that I have changed the amount of tributes for District 4 from 12 to 13 and the amount for District 11 from 6 to 5. This is because while I only had one spot left in District 4, someone submitted twins and I did not even realize (I know, that was stupid of me!) so I accepted both of them, but now I am allotting for that ;)**

**Here's the next chapter! I hope you like it and please review! Also, to the guest reviewer who created Lukas, I hope you don't mind but I changed his name to Luke, because there is another tribute named Lucas, and I did not want it to be confusing.**

**District 10:**

**Ariel Roam and Gracen Heme**

In the poorer section of a poor district also known as 10, a young girl observed her small frame in a cracked, crooked mirror as she prepared for her very first reaping. Her stomach was flat from the lack of food. She had hair that was choppy and black which it fell to her shoulders and bangs to match (though those residing on her forehead, rather than her shoulders). The girl's eyes were a dark brown and they blinked back at their own reflection in innocence from within her tanned face.

The dark red dress was loose on her, and she pulled its thick black bow tight around her waist.

"Ariel."

The voice that croaked the one single word from the Ariel's doorframe caused her to turn around.

The man in the doorway could only be the little girl's father. His dark brown eyes were almost identical to hers, but for the expression held in them. His skin was tanned and he also had a slight body.

Ariel forced a smile onto her face. "Hi, Dad."

Her father entered the small room and sat down on the creak, springy bed that belonged to Ariel.

Ariel sat down opposite him on that of her little sister, Cassiel.

"Sweetheart," his voice had now returned to normal, and it occurred to Ariel that he and Mom could have been crying over her new eligibility for the reaping. With a pang, Ariel realized that he must be thinking that over the next six years she could be chosen to be slaughtered the same way as the twins out of the wretched glass bowl.

"I have something for you, sweetie," said Haron Roam with a smile that took a few moments to be able to cross his features.

It was a simple yet elegant red rose with a short stem.

This time the smile that crossed Ariel's face represented the only emotion she felt at the moment. Though on reaping day, emotions such as those of love and happiness could only last a mere moment.

"It's beautiful, Daddy. I love it."

He wrapped his arms around her (the two beds were pressed against each other to make them both fit in the tiny little room) and Ariel fell warmly into the embrace.

She slipped the flower into her dark locks of hair. "Don't be nervous," she told him. "I'm going to be just fine."

"I know you will, Ariel."

Haron said no more, but rather stood up and crossed the short distance out of the room.

Ariel dashed down the rickety staircase after her father, eager to see her best friend, Gracen, who had promised to meet her before the reaping.

When she reached the kitchen, he was sitting at the round table chatting with Ariel's mom. Well, her mom was doing most of the talking, Gracen was nodding and adding in the occasional comment out of politeness.

Ariel ran straight towards them and grabbed Gracen's arm. "C'mon! Let's go! Daisy just had a baby foal! I can't wait to see it."

She stood on her tippy toes to give her mother a peck on the cheek before motioning excitedly for Gracen to follow her out to the barn to see her favorite horse and its new baby.

"Wait!" her mother called after them, rushing out into the barn. "Ariel, don't get your beautiful reaping dress dirty!"

Ariel just smiled harder and ran, hand-in-hand with Gracen out into the barn where Daisy was instantly spotted because of her Palomino coat among the other two horses, both of whom were black coated.

The baby's fur was much lighter and it was nuzzling against its mother.

Ariel muzzled Daisy's mane. "Hey, girl. What a cute little baby you have." She giggled when the horse licked at her hands.

Gracen approached more gently and stroked the fur of the new baby.

"Yeah, I'm going to have to go, girl," Ariel sighed. "Mom's not going to be very happy with me if I get my dress dirty, now is she? And the Capitol people certainly aren't going to be too pleased if I'm late to the reaping."

She gave the horse one less stroke of affection.

"Let's go, Gracen."

Gracen followed her out into the street.

"So," he began. "All the two of us need to do is get through today alright and we don't have to worry about the Games for another whole year. That's good news, right?"

Ariel just nodded, not really having much to say to that comment.

As the two turned a corner, Ariel frowned as she overheard a conversation she could simply not hep butting into.

"Why don't you just go join your kind, dead girl!" sneered a boy Ariel recognized from her school.

The girl he was picking on said nothing, merely looking up at him for a second out of stormy blue eyes.

What bothered Ariel most about the picture, was that while the boy was in her year at school, the girl he was taunting was much older. She knew her from around the district; Luna, Ariel thought her name was. She was around sixteen or seventeen.

Everyone knew the girl in District 10, even though she hardly ever spoke. She was the girl who could supposedly see and speak with ghosts.

"Why don't you just shove off?" Ariel interjected, as she came up between the two.

"Stay out of this, Roam. Go off and play with your little horsies."

"I am sick of you and your idiot family always being so plain mean. Did anyone ever even do anything to you guys? No. You just seem to take pleasure in other people's pain."

The boy, Oxx, smirked at Ariel, but from beside her she could practically feel the heat radiating from Gracen's face. She knew he knew what she was referring to: when they were only seven, Ariel defended Gracen from a pack of bullies led by Oxx's older brother, which led to Ariel and Gracen's friendship.

"Just back off, Oxx. Okay? Can't you just leave at least one day when people can worry about not being chosen for their deaths and not make them have to worry about pathetic jerks? Or is it beneath you to think about people's lives when you have to clear out your own insecurities? Or," Ariel laughed a little, "maybe you're just too stupid to even realize that today's reaping day, despite the dismal atmosphere all over the district. Yes, I suppose I ought to give you the benefit of the doubt and choose that one . . ."

Oxx turned beet red. He swung around and walked away without a backwards glance at any of the three remaining people.

Without a word, Luna did the same, not even acknowledging Ariel or Gracen.

**Mike Sanderson**

There was tension in the Sanderson household. Mike still did not know the reason for Mother's anger towards him that she had harbored since he was six. All he knew was the pain throbbing in his arm where she hit him hard with a textbook. It was worse than when she did so with her fists.

Father was not home. He rarely was anymore. He did not much fancy baring witness to Mother hitting Mike. He preferred to just stay out of it and pretend like he did not know what was going on.

Mike was lying on the floor with Mother hovering over him. Both mother and son were panting hard. Mike took this opportunity to scramble to his feet and run away as fast as they would carry him.

He slammed the door behind him and kept running. Passed the countless farms and ranches filled with an abundance of animals beyond compare.

For a second, he did not even know what made him stop in his tracks, but he was quickly relieved that his instincts had told him to do so.

She was sitting on a patch of grass, just joking and laughing with another girl Mike recognized.

He punched the air. It should be he, Mike, that's sitting and having a good time with Clarisse Winston, not some idiot girl like that. At least he could take comfort in the fact that she wasn't with another guy. But still, he was hurt by the breakup and didn't exactly need to see her having fun with someone - anyone - else right now.

Mike backed away until he found a public bench where he sat down. Clarisse was no longer in the line of vision of his icy blue eyes.

His body was bruised from Mother hitting him and his temper was threatening to snap at any moment from the irritation he was feeling towards . . . towards everything right now!

When he told Clarisse that he would be Volunteering for the Hunger Games this year, she freaked out. She said that she loved him. That she just wouldn't be able to stand watching him be killed when they were still together. That it would kill her too.

He missed her like hell.

She was the only one whom he told about what was going on with Mother. That really said something about his trust for her compared to the rest of the earth's population. Any of his other friends who ever inquired about the odd bruises on his body or his current black eye, he would wither make up some lame excuse to, or snap at them that it was none of their business.

The Games seemed like the only escape from Mother. They had already cost him Clarisse, and they would most likely also cost him his life. But they would rid him of Mother and his life at the mercy of her abusive hands.

**Lark Harper**

Lark hummed merrily as he cared for the sheep as they prepared for a sheering in the small family farm.

That was the way it worked, and Lark was quite happy with the arrangement: he cared for the sheep, Mom and Dad for the cows. And those were the only animals they had.

"Aren't they great?" Lark asked his best friend, Phoenix who was helping him out.

"Sure," said Phoenix quietly.

Lark bounced around the herd of sheep, full of excess energy.

He laughed a little as he counted them to make sure they were all there.

"Woops. I guess we lost one. Phoenix you can go home, I'll just go and track down the little bugger."

"Are you sure?" the boy's words were murmured and they mushed together as he spoke them.

"Yes, yes, of course! I'm excited for this! The sheep'll be happy to come home."

"Can I come too?" Phoenix's voice was barely audible. It often was when he was making a request.

"Of course, Nixy! - Can I call you Nixy? - the more the merrier! I only thought you'd be wanting to get home, but that's great if you'd like to come with me to find the little bugger. Now let's go."

Lark's amber eyes were ablaze with excitement at the prospect of bringing joy to the little sheep when it was able to be brought home.

"No." It was only one word coming from the other boy's mouth, and, out of context, Lark did not know what his friend was referring to.

"What?"

"I said 'no,'" he mumbled. "I don't like the nickname Nixy."

"Oh." Lark burst into laughter.

Lark was not at all worried about not finding the sheep, and for good reason. He knew all the spots that they went to when they occasionally ran away. He knew just where to find them; there were not very many options.

As they passed by a group of bullies sneering at a girl Lark knew by face but not by name. A little girl was telling them off, and Lark smiled; good for her. But then he seethed as he realized who the main bully was: Oxx Turnt. He was the youngest of many boys, all who liked to make other people's lives miserable. It was just the other day that one of the Turnt brothers had said something derogatory about Phoenix and Lark got into trouble for picking a fight with him because of it.

It wasn't Lark's fault. He just had an instinct to protect his friends.

Apparently, that did not occur to the teacher, even when he chirped on to her and mentioned it. Lark had gotten detention for punching the boy's nose when the fight was taken too far.

Lark refocused his mind on the task at hand; finding the missing sheep.

**Lucas James Griffin**

"All ready to go, Juliet?"

It was Lucas's little sister's second reaping, and he was desperate for her not to be chosen. How could she ever survive the Games? She was just the sweet little brunette cared for by her big brother since she lost her mother to cancer when she was just a baby.

Lucas had been four at the time, Juliet one.

Father had to work much harder and longer now to support the kids and keep food on the table. He was not home very often so Lucas cared for Juliet pretty much her whole life. He really did love the innocent little girl. She would be helpless in the Games, though, Lucas would be the first one to admit that.

She ran a hand over her two matching braids, one on each side of her pale little face and nodded at her brother. "What about, Dad."

"Aw, come on, Jules. You know Dad's busy. He'll meet us at the reaping soon."

Juliet's face fell and Lucas felt bad. He knew how much she longed to have known her mother; even have some recollection of her. And now Dad was hardly every home either.

"Cheer up, kiddo," he ruffled her hair. "I'll even play dress-up with you and your dollies after the reaping to make up for it," Lucas offered with a laugh.

"How old do you think I am, Lucas?"

"Yeah, I know, Jules. You haven't played with your dollies for years. It's called a joke, sweetheart. Now come on, we don't want Dad to get there before us, do we? Today's not the kind of day that we're really interested in setting a record now is it?"

Juliet laughed but shook her head, and followed Lucas as he chatted to her cheerfully on their walk to the town square where the reaping would take place.

**Luna Galaxia**

Mom was broken on the inside, Luna knew. She was crumpled into a ball, still crying over Orion's death. It had been five years ago, when he was killed in the final five by the male tribute from District 1 that year.

Dad's blue eyes were set on the newspaper and he was not speaking as per his usual. He was not totally and utterly broken like Mom. Just quiet. So was Luna. She had selective mutism and just simply did not speak in front of people she was not totally comfortable around. Around her nearest and dearest, though, Luna was just fine. So at the moment that pretty much meant the twins.

Astra and Estelle were only eight. Their hair was blond and the two pairs of eyes were a soft hazel color.

Only eight. So they hardly even remembered Orion. Luna doubted that he really stuck out in either of their memories from the age of three. They didn't know what the Games were back then; they were still not entirely sure about them five years later. They both easily could have forgotten about Orion.

But they must have remembered Harper, even if they were not sure exactly what happened to her.

Harper was Luna's best friend until she became yet another soul taken by the Hunger Games. That was when the selective mutism started. Right after the depression.

Luna was also a medium; she could communicate with the dead. This was yet another thing that set her apart from her peers, aside from the whole not-speaking-when-she's-not-comfortable-around-you thing.

She suddenly remembered her encounter earlier that morning with Oxx Turnt and those two little children who had stood up for her. That was nice of them, though she didn't really view herself as needing help from little kids.

She was more a giver of care, in her opinion, not a receiver; she had pretty much taken all responsibility for the twins and ensured that they had everything they needed ever since Mom and Dad went distant like this. Especially Mom. And how could two little eight-year-olds grow up with a mother as distant and broken as theirs was? So they were basically in Luna's care ever since Orion's death.

She really loved the twins; Astra and Estelle were adorable. Sometimes she found it funny how they could be the by product of her parents who were totally in their own little depressed bubbles. Then again, the depression had only started after Orion's death, when the twins were already born.

**Reaping**

A young woman squealed from upon the stage after the mayor concluded his speech.

"Hello District 10! Let's here a round of applause for the most epic Quarter Quell yet which you will all have a chance in either participating in - for you lucky children - or possibly having a child or relative participate in. Yes, so much fun for everyone!"

No one clapped despite the expectant look on Lyra Klotho's face.

Lyra had the largest, bluest eyes any of the district had ever seen which were rather creepy; the creepiest part of her appearance to most, despite the fact that they were the only thing with even a chance of being natural.

Her face had a pinkish tinge to its fair color which could have come from some sort of permanent form of blush. Her eyes were shadowed with a bright gold color that matched her hair and the tail she had sticking out from her bottom. Her nails were painted with an even brighter gold and her skin (besides that of her face and neck) was dyed orange. She wore an outlandish fuchsia bonnet around her gold woven hair.

"Now, now, children. Before we begin, I just want to say that even though many of you probably want nothing more than a trip to the Capitol, make sure you are ready before you Volunteer. After all, we don't want you getting hurt. And, we want more Victors coming from our fabulous district."

She wagged her finger at them, all huddled together in fear of being chosen.

Lyra sometimes acted as though she had a Career district. And what did she mean that she didn't want anyone getting hurt? It was the Hunger Games for crying out loud!

Lyra's gloved hand reached into the large reaping bowl and she beamed at the crowd.

"Now before I read this first, marvelous name I just wanted to let you all know how much-" her voice broke and she wiped away a non-existent tear on her cheek - "how much you all mean to me, and how I'd love to bond with each and every one of you, but there can only be six lucky ones chosen to participate in this year's Hunger Games."

"Eva Long," she read.

"I Volunteer." Well, maybe Lyra got her wish.

Mike did it, as he had planned, to escape Mother. He was not an idiot. He was not confident in his ability to win the Games or anything, but maybe he could help someone else to win. He could help out a teammate if he could. And he needed to get away from his house anyway.

"Ooh marvelous! Now, darling what's your name."

"Mike Sanderson," he said clearly into the microphone.

"Delightful." Lyra beamed brightly before turning her expression into one of someone who was reuniting with a long lost friend and embraced Mike tightly.

The boy pushed her away, irritated with her need to act as though she was close to every tribute every year. She had never even met him!

Lyra put back on the beam that should not have been possible without stretching her mouth past the boundaries of her face, but clearly was.

"Lark Harper," she called.

Lark forced himself not to react in the way he should; forced himself not to scream in terror. He forced himself to act like his normal cheerful self, and walk up to the stage casually and great Lyra cheerfully.

"Hello, dear," she smiled fondly at him.

"Hey," he replied. "Well, I guess I'll be joining you in the Games," he nodded cheerfully at Mike. "You know, Lyra, we might as well make the most of this experience, right?"

He did not even let the escort get a word in before he continued. "And I guess I'll enjoy being with you and those . . . eyes of yours." He trailed off slightly at the end, but quickly returned the bright, cheery smile to his face.

His comment seemed to make Lyra's day and she flung her arms around him, her eyes (the very ones that were the cause of her flattery) welling up with tears as she squeezed Lark's muscly body which he could thank his giant of a father for.

At that moment, Lyra seemed to realize that she would have to get on with the reaping if she did not want it to take all day, and she did just that.

"Lucas James Griffin," she shouted with glee. She was still obviously beyond her usual peppy joy at the fact that Mike Volunteered and Lark gave her a compliment.

Lucas froze in fear. His face drained of all color. Was this seriously happening? Could he really be subject to be sent to the Hunger Games? Surely the next time he would be seen in District 10 would be inside a box. How could he possibly survive. Sure, this year was special; more than one person could survive the Games. But still, it was only up to ten and it would almost definitely be less.

His palms were sweating. He could bet that if he looked in a mirror at that moment he would see a sheet of white paper staring back at him with fearful blue eyes splattered on.

What about Juliet? She would have no one! There would be no one left to take care of her and she'd have to go off on her own. Father certainly wouldn't be able to get off from work to take care of her. What could she do? How could he just let her stay here when he was going to be entering the Games? There was a simple answer to all these questions though: it didn't matter; he had to go. He did not have a choice.

And that was that. Lucas's slightly athletic built body had to be hoisted up by the elbows and carried up to the stage by the Peacekeepers when he remained unmoving; still unsure of what to do.

Lyra squeezed Lucas tightly too when he came up to the stage, possibly just for the sake of consistency, and cleared her throat before reading the next name.

"Ariel Roam."

The memories all flooded back to her, clear as day, in a whirl of her thoughts. She remembered now clearer than ever before that fateful day four years ago to the day.

_"Sariel Roam."_

_"Nathaniel Roam."_

She had basically lost them both that same day, even though they were killed days apart in the arena itself.

_Ariel was only eight; Cassiel was seven. They knew that their big brother and sister were being taken away. Gracen was smart; he knew exactly where. And from the the whitened expression on his tiny little features, Ariel knew it was nowhere good._

_Mom and Dad were screaming and crying. Dad was holding Mom in a warm embrace, trying to stay strong for her as it registered that her babies were just drawn for the slaughter._

_The twins were fourteen. They made it to the Capitol. Ariel watched their training scores (Nathaniel's being a seven, and Sariel's a six) and their interviews (Nathaniel went for the humorous and charming approach, while Sariel's angle touched Ariel's heart more, as it was just a sweet little girl who's little sisters needed her)._

_They made it to the arena._

_They almost had a chance._

_Until there were only five people left, and Nathaniel's head was smashed by a rock thanks to the make tribute from District 4. Then, three deaths later, Sariel had made it to the final two, only to have her head sliced off brutally by the District 2 boy._

Ariel's throat became hot. Her eyes filled with fat, blotchy tears that threatened to spill at any moment.

Suddenly, she remembered the twins' reaping. They had both put on a brave face; even managed a smile in Sariel's case. Maybe that was what she should do.

It took her a moment to calm down and swallow her tears, but she did so, and even gave Lyra the tiniest of grins (it was all she could manage) when she reached her on the stage.

Lyra continued her pattern of hugging the tributes, and to Ariel she said. "Oh, dearie you are so lucky!" she grasped the little girl's hands. "Now, now, don't be worried, you naughty little girl -" was it naughty to be worried about the Games? - "it's not often that a little girl such as yourself - twelve I would presume - has the honor of becoming a tribute for District 10 in this wondrous game.

Ariel simply nodded.

"Now, now. Show me a smile, girl." Lyra pouted slightly.

Ariel let out a choked laugh at the sight of her tail wagging behind her and the woman beamed; clearly bubbling with excitement over her achievement.

"And you've even got a little dimple," she said, pointing to Ariel's face. "I've always liked them . . . maybe I should have some put in . . .

"Oh, well. I guess we ought to finish up here first.

"Gracen Heme."

Behind a pair of wiry round glasses, the chocolate brown eyes of a small, but athletic looking boy widened in fear.

How could this possibly be happening? There were still tear tracks on his (currently) bright red cheeks for Ariel being chosen. He was not even beginning to fathom what he would possibly do without her. And now he was reaped too! And on top of all that, one of his district partners - the only girl reaped so far - was his best friend in the world as well as his secret crush.

As he did was he was supposed to and walked up to the stage despite his knees that were shaking terribly, the only thing that kept him from buckling down, screaming in rage, and crying until he had no more tears left, was the fact that possibly . . . possibly he would have a chance to keep Ariel alive now.

From his position on the stage, Gracen could see the entire district. He spotted his ten-year-old sister, Grace who was his partner in turning to books and animals after their mother died of Pneumonia, hand-in-hand with his father, whom Gracen knew loved both himself and Grace dearly, but was having trouble adapting to his increased fatherly duties since his wife's death.

Before he was even aware of what was going on, Lyra was pulling him into a tight hug which he thought could have easily crushed a rib or two of his.

And, finally, "Luna Galaxia."

It was five years ago when Orion's name was drawn from the bowl. Two years ago when Harper's was. And this year Luna's was.

She had almost allowed herself to hope that she had made it past another reaping and would only have one more to worry about (that is, until the twins became eligible). Almost. But not quite.

_Luna thought she must have been drowning in tears when the mutts thrashed and clawed at Harper's body, until they broke the skin in too many places and still thrashed on. It continued until Harper died. No one intervened. No one tried to help her or to save her. Her only ally was long dead._

That was what Harper's death had looked like.

And flashing back even further, she remembered Orion's too.

_He was attractive and charming. Subject to girls swooning when he walked by. That was, until he was reaped for the Games. Luna had almost even begun to have hope when she realized that he had made it to the final five. She shouldn't have. Because he did not make it any farther._

_There was only one source of water in the arena at that time: a tiny little stream that was occupied by Careers (and _only_ Careers, of course)._

_But Orion would have died of thirst, anyway, if he had not tried to invade, so Luna did not blame him for doing so. Still, though, it earned him a spear through the heart and a trip back home . . . in a complimentary casket._

She was not even entirely sure how she had gotten there, but suddenly, there Luna was on the stage. She cried silently to herself, and permitted Lyra to hug her (as the woman seemed to be beginning to view it as routine) but there was no warmth in the way that Luna hugged her back.

Lyra brought the reaping to a conclusion. "Goodbye, goodbye, my dearies! I'm looking forward to seeing you all next year! And remember children, practice makes perfect! Another Volunteer next year would simply be charming."

Lyra waved cheerily at the people of District 10 as they dispersed and she announced their tributes for the year.

**District 11:**

**Wisteria Bay**

"So you're going out stealing with him again?"

It was not a friendly question, though Wisteria knew that Heath's narrow mindedness did not mean that he did not love her.

"Yes," she replied. "Yes, me and Rowan are going out to collect some stuff so that you, have some food to eat." She snapped the last part.

Rowan was Wisteria's only friend. At twenty-five, he was a large, strong man. He had educated her in the arts of thievery and near invisibility. In order for her large family to survive, despite both parents as well as Heath and Aspen, her eldest sister, working long and hard to support them, Wisteria had to swipe the food from others, who may or may not also be in need. Though generally, they preferred not to take from actual people, rather they went to markets and such.

"Here he is," she added, when out the dusty old window she spotted Rowan walking towards the shabby little Bay house. "I have to go. Make sure Thorn and Briar don't get into too much trouble."

Wisteria winked as she said the last sentence, but Heath scowled.

The girl, eyes dark as night and skin nearing the same color, her curly black hair was pulled back into a ponytail as always so as not to get in her way, stood, slim as ever, though not the kind of starving slim she easily could have been if not for her knack for robbery.

She waved at Rowan. He returned the gesture.

The only thing the two ever stole was food: what else did they need?

The young man was even more of an expert thief than she was, though she thought she could be catching up. The two met a couple of years back when she watched attentively as Rowan successfully stole something from the district storage. He was not even caught by the Peacekeepers looming all around District 11. Doubtlessly, Wisteria was impressed with the obvious guile this man possessed, but he too, was impressed with the girl, whom he had not even noticed for such a long period of time as she observed him carefully when he took the nameless item of food.

He taught her everything he knew and the two became fast friends. All it cost Wisteria was twenty-five percent of whatever loot she managed to obtain with his help. She figured that logically this was a small price to pay for the other seventy-five percent, which she would no way be able to steal without the initial instruction of Rowan when they first met.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded. Their mission for today was a relatively easy one. They would be invading a fruit stand that Rowan reported had the ripest watermelons and sweetest strawberries in all of District 11. And the best part was, the stand was run by an absentminded, unfocused old man merely selling the produce of his only son's fields.

This would be a piece of cake.

"Ready," she said confidently.

**Nathaniel Green**

"Husker" they called him for his corn husking abilities. At least it was something. He could only imagine if he had nothing going for him that could gross even the tiniest bit of money.

"Are you going to be reaped this year?" it was Kyle, the nine-year-old. His other brother, Hummard, was only seven.

"I don't know." There was no point in lying. He took out as much tesserae as he could that year, to support his brothers. It was a good thing Nathaniel had finally reached reaping age. He didn't know whether they would be able to survive as they had been on only what they could manage to cram into their little mouths at work.

Kyle, seeming to realize that Nathaniel was not in the mood to talk, got up from the musky metal chair he was sitting on next to his elder brother. Nathaniel was happy to have him leave. He did not mind his brother, he was just in more of a mood to think at the moment.

Nathaniel did a lot of thinking. It was another of his talents; the boy was anything but stupid, though around most others he was just awkward.

His parents were both arrested for stirring up some trouble the Peacekeepers viewed as a glimpse of an incoming rebellion.

He wished that they were here. That he did not have to carry the burden of two helpless little boys on his shoulders. It wasn't Kyle and Hummard's faults exactly . . . but that did not change the fact that sometimes they were just plain annoying.

Nathaniel stood up. He was tall for his age, and slim too. He ran his hands over his sunken cheeks and sighed in defeat. There was nothing he could do about his brothers now . . . he was stuck trying to care for them for what could very well be the rest of his life. That is, if he made it past this first reaping . . .

**Matilda Drew**

There were six girls living in the house of Marie Drew. All of them being sisters, with Marie the oldest at twenty. There parents were killed in a tragic house fire only a short while after Lily, the youngest's, birth. Lily was now four, with Ella, Matilda, Izzie, and Skye in between her and Marie in terms of age.

That year was the first that Matilda (or "Tilly" as she preferred to be called) had her name in the reaping bowl, and the last year that Ella did. Izzie, Skye, and of course Lily, were all still too young.

Tilly was scared stiff of the Games that she was eligible to be chosen for. What if she was reaped? What if Ella was? She didn't know what any of the sisters would be able to do with a piece of them missing. Tilly loved her family dearly; when she was with her sisters, she was almost able to forget the pain of missing her parents. Almost, but not quite. Still, it was something, and, Tilly was grateful for anything she could get.

"Tiwwy!"

"Hey, Lils." Matilda scooped her little sister up into her own arms and swung her around. Lily giggled.

"Tiwwy, what did Mawie mean when see was tawking to Ewwa and see said dat 'Tiwwy can be chosen dis year.'"

Tilly smiled. "Nothing, Lily. It doesn't matter."

"I want to know!" Lily screeched.

"Lily, look at me." Lily obeyed. "No you don't."

Lily believed her. Smart girl.

**Izzy Pure**

"Incoming, Izzy!" Dad flung himself (as gently as he could) at her small body, tackling her. Both erupted into a fit of rapturous, nonstop laughter. Dad liked to spring these little "attacks" on Izzy to prepare her, as he said, for anything. Izzy didn't know if that meant the Hunger Games, or what. Either way, she was pretty sure Dad just used it as an excuse to have fun, because Mom always scolded him for distracting her brothers from everything to play sports with them (though most of the time, she ended up bursting into laughter herself at Dad's helpless excuse for a puppy-dog-face).

Izzy could not stop her giggling, and she rolled around the floor clutching her stomach.

"Gosh, Izzy. What's so funny?" it was her older brother, Adam. Her younger brother, Owen, was tailing behind him.

Izzy gasped for air. "D-D-Dad . . ." Adam got the message, not needing her to say more.

"So, guys," Izzy bounced on her feet once she had somewhat regained her composure. "How's life? Got a girlfriend, Adam? I didn't think so. Whoa! I almost forgot! Today's your first reaping, Owen."

Izzy threw her arms around him and squeezed tight.

Adam snorted. "It's only your second, Iz."

She shrugged. "I know. And it's only your third. What's your point?"

He said nothing.

Izzy grinned. "Is this your way of saying that you also want a hug too, Adam."

"No- I-"

"Come here."

"Ow, you're choking me, Izzy."

Izzy chuckled. "It's just because I love you. Now you two better get a quick move on things before Mom gets impatient and grounds you."

"Mom never grounds any of us . . . she just threatens to . . ."

She lifted her shoulders up once and dropped them down. "You never know, boys. She may start now."

Izzy grabbed Owen by the arm and pulled him outside where Mom and Dad would be waiting for them, (Dad had been pulled away by Mom due to his uncontrollable fit of laughter she considered childish) expecting Adam to follow them.

**Raven Garroway**

"Are you okay, Raven?" Callie's voice was small and timid as always.

"Just fine, Cal. Just fine."

Callie was Raven's little sister. Raven cared for her ever since her father died in a lab incident, and her mother went into complete shock.

Callie was twelve, Raven thirteen. The two girls were close in age, but there personalities were worlds apart. Whereas sweet, shy little Callie was cute, helpful and innocent, Raven was tomboyish, outgoing, and violent.

"Are you nervous?" Callie whispered.

"Yes," said Raven simply with little emotion.

"D-do you think you're going to be r-r-reaped?"

"No, Cal," she said bluntly. "I'm not worried about myself being reaped. Maybe I will and maybe I won't. Doesn't matter too much. I'm worried about you being reaped and not lasting two minutes in the Games."

Callie's already pink cheeks turned a deeper shade of red.

"Sorry."

"Aw, don't be sorry, Cal. You know I love you, right? More than anything?"

Callie nodded her agreement and rested her head in her sister's lap.

Raven pushed Callie's head up and wrapped her arms around her. "Everything is going to be just fine . . ." It wasn't something she could promise, but it was something she could say. Just so long as Callie wasn't reaped, everything was going to be just fine. And what were the odds of Callie's one ticket being chosen against those with forty or fifty? Not very high.

**Reaping**

Borrius Bilvedon was the escort for District 11. He was a tall, brawny man with skin died a bright neon green and hair sticking up every which way that was also an exotic color, a magenta-ey purple this time.

Borrius had one of the largest foreheads ever beheld by many and his eyebrows had been moved further up upon them to try and balance his face out slightly (to little avail).

His long green fingers danced delicately over the large reaping bowl and he stifled a smirk in anticipation of the first tribute that will be subject to his or her untimely death.

"Owen Pure," was the first lucky one.

A girl shrieked. A man yelped. A woman cried into the man's arms. Two boys looking very much alike were wearing identical expressions of pure shock and fear.

Owen's little arms were shaking and his legs were threatening to fail him.

"I Volunteer," said the same girl with the initial shriek clearly.

I Volunteer!" she repeated, a little louder, and with more confidence this time.

Borrius clapped for Izzy as she climbed up the stage but wore a rather bored expression as he asked for her name and congratulated her on her "wise decision."

He drawled the next name out. "Wisteria Bay."

Wisteria raised an eyebrow. The Hunger Games, huh? This shall be interesting . . . certainly a challenge. Not like anything she'd ever experienced before . . .

She confidently strode up to the stage and stood next to Izzy, who looked like she wished nothing more than to not have Volunteered, but was trying to stay strong so as not to make her little brother feel bad.

"Nathaniel Green."

Nathaniel let out a long, disgruntled sob and rubbed his eyes, only to have to repeat the motion a second later when the tears began to flow again. He didn't care who saw him cry in public. He didn't care if it made Kyle or Hummard sad. All that mattered at the moment were those tears. They represented his very being at the moment. Just one giant blob of fear and terror and more fear still.

And he was being waited for up on the stage.

Nathaniel stood far away from the escort and the two girls that were already designated tributes; he didn't care much for people. He did not want to associate with these two. Didn't want them to think that they mattered to him in any sort of way whatsoever.

"Matilda Drew."

Borrius raised an eyebrow as after the aisles parted for Matilda to get through, she waved her arms desperately at another girl who bore a strong resemblance to her and had her lips parted, already having said the first two syllables of "I Volun-"

But it appeared as though Matilda did not want the girl Volunteering. She was stopping the girl from doing so.

"Don't," Tilly begged. "Please, Ella. Don't do it. Marie needs you to help take care of the little ones. Please. Just please- don't . . ."

Ella did not move for a few moments, finally, she seemed to accept Matilda's words, as she nodded curtly and returned to her spot squashed in the midst of all of the other eighteen-year-old females.

"Callie Garroway."

No. No way. This could not be happening! Callie couldn't possibly be going to the Games! Raven's little sister was just too sweet and gentle and innocent. She wouldn't stand a chance.

"I Volunteer!" she declared proudly. "I Volunteer as tribute."

Callie's face was already white as a ghost's, but, if possible, it grew even paler. The younger girl said nothing; speechless, as her older sister took her place for an imminent death.

**District 12:**

**Thistle Jaylark**

Thirty-seven, Jinx. Thirty-seven ancestors killed in the Games."

Jinx purred in response.

The orange striped ginger cat was Thistle's only friend in District 12. Mother and Father still weren't home. They would be later, within five minutes or so of the reaping, but they did not get out of work at the mines any earlier than that.

She sometimes wished that she would have a real, human friend to talk to, but for now Jinx would just have to do. It was probably her choppy cropped black hair or wild gray eyes that drove them away. They probably found them ugly. Or maybe it was her demanding, fierce, and slightly outlandish personality. One of the two. Or both. Yes, that was it: both. At least, that was if she remembered correctly from what she had been told by her bullies when she was younger. She still saw them every day at school, which made the situation rather awkward. She usually just ignored them. She had Jinx anyway, she didn't need their approval.

Mother and Father sometimes showed her how to use a pick ax or other mining tools, though she had never actually been inside a mine. She wondered what it would be like in their. That would probable be where she would live out the majority of her life when she grew up: stuck inside a mine with only a pick ax and other impoverished miners for company.

**Luke Torain**

Mother was not home. She cared for many young children in the Seam, particularly those who had lost parents to mining incidents or those who had parents who were hardly ever home and no older siblings to take care of them.

Luke was deeply saddened at the fact that even on a day such as this one, reaping day, families could not be together in the morning to comfort each other and just be there for one another. How was it fair to all of those sweet, innocent little children?

Father was able to join Luke and his siblings, Ember and Marco, that day, which Luke was very happy about, even if it meant less money for food, the supply of which was already dangerously low.

He and Ember, his sister, both took out as many tesserae as they could from the moment they turned twelve. Still, there was hardly enough food to feed everyone. And they both had high chances of being reaped.

Luke offered each of his family members a smile, as Mother banged the door open and gave them each a hug.

"Happy Hunger Games," she muttered dryly.

"And may the odds be ever in your favor," Luke finished, though he was sincerely wishing Ember luck at the reaping, not merely mocking the silly Capitol people.

Ember laughed. "The odds aren't really in our favor, are they Luke?"

Luke shook his head. "No. No they are not in any way in out favor. But that doesn't mean we can't try and be optimistic and pretend like they are. I really wish you were two years older, Ember. I don't think I would be as worried knowing that you couldn't be reaped.

Ember shook her head. "We all have to go through it, Luke. We all have to go through those horrid six years of our lives. The ones that are supposed to be the happy childhood years, but are instead marked by nothing but fear and tragedy. If it makes you feel any better, though, I really wish beyond wishes that you couldn't be reaped too."

"It doesn't," Luke said honestly. "But I appreciate the effort."

Ember snorted. "And next year we'll have to worry about Marco being reaped too."

"Don't remind me." Luke had almost forgotten that Mother was there until she spoke. "I already have to worry about two of my beloved babies. Please, just don't remind me that soon it's going to be all three."

"Yeah," Ember sighed. "Poor little Marco. This is his last reaping as a free man."

"Enjoy it, Marco," Luke muttered, though Marco was not in the room. "Enjoy it."

**Imogen Culver**

"Imogen, are you okay?"

Leven's voice floated back to her and her head snapped up.

"What? Yes, of course. Why?"

"Your teeth are chattering," said her seventeen-year-old brother matter-of-factly.

"Oh." Imogen had not even noticed until Leven mentioned it. "Sorry. I just . . . well, you know how nervous this day makes me . . . especially since . . ."

"Yeah."

Imogen's older sister, Lucille placed in seventh in the Hunger Games two years ago. Imogen was thirteen at the time. Afterward, her mother committed suicide, not being able to stand the pain of Lucille's death.

Imogen and her brothers, Leven and Jeremiah, as well as her father, were trying to get back on their feet, but this was one of those things that were a lot easier said than done.

She took on a bunch of odd jobs here and there to try and do her part to help support them. They all had to do with coal. Here in District 12, everything always came back to coal no matter where you went.

Jeremiah was only twelve. He was seated on Imogen's lap and, the usually cheery, talkative boy had not said a word since he woke up that morning.

Imogen wrapped her arms around his waist.

"You'll be fine, Jer," she said, though she could not be sure.

She bounced him up and down on her lap like she remembered Lucille and Mother doing with him when he was little.

When he turned around to face her and his expression was even more grim than before, she automatically stopped.

"No," he said. "I didn't mean . . . please do it again, Imogen."

Imogen bounced him up and down again, more quickly than before.

"Do you miss them as much as I do?" Jeremiah was looking from his sister to his brother and then back again. Leven and Imogen exchanged a glance.

"Well, do you?" Jeremiah demanded.

"Yeah," said Leven. "Yeah, I think we do. But we're all doing just fine, aren't we, Jer? Of course we miss them, but we're all doing okay. We're all still alive. Father's still alive."

Jeremiah looked thoughtful. "Yeah, I know," he said, after a moment's pause. "I know."

Imogen kissed the back of his head and popped him off of her lap. "Let's go, Jer. Time for the reaping."

Jeremiah looked like he was fighting the overwhelming urge to just break down and cry.

"Don't be scared," she added hastily, taking his hand. "The three of us will be together the whole time, up until we have to be separated into out sections. We're here for you, Jer. Always."

**Thina Coroey**

Thina put down the handheld mirror the morning of the reaping. She had the same long, dark hair as always, the same olive skin tone and slight splash of freckles across her nose. Her pale blue eyes were the same as always and she was still looking petite and more skinny than she should. The only thing that had changed from normal was the royal blue dress that came to her knees and the small pendant around her neck in the shape of a letter "T."

The T was not for Thina, though. No, not at all. It stood for Terrence. Her father's name. It was only six and a half months ago that he was turned into an Avox for assaulting a Peacekeeper. Granted, he had tried to kill the Peacekeeper, but that did not make it hurt any less when Thina and her mother heard the news.

Thina fingered the pendant. She did not have many friends, but had always shared a special bond with both of her parents. But now she could never have that with her father again. She would almost definitely never even see him again.

She wished she could. But that would require getting herself into the Capitol, and Thina had no way of doing that.

She didn't even know why her father was trying to kill the Peacekeeper. She couldn't possibly imagine what would drive him to that. But if there was one thing she was sure of it was that Terrence Coroey was not a man who attacked people for no reason. Even Capitol people. She trusted her father, and she knew her mother did too. Who cared what the Capitol thought of him, now that he was marked as an Avox? She hated the thought of her father never being able to speak again, never being able to say even one word. Her eyes brimmed with tears just thinking about it. But at least, she knew, that even if they cut out his tongue, she knew that they could not take away Terrence Coroey's pride by ridiculing him like this, nor could they take away his determination to get through everything no matter what life threw at him, and always draw inspiration from Thina and her mother.

**Olistene Nityel**

"Excited, Olistene? It's our last reaping ever! We're eighteen, dude!"

"No, Ronsey," Olistene told his friend bluntly. "I am not at all excited. You want to know why? Because we're eight-fuckin'-teen, which means that we have all the more chance of being reaped."

"Okay. Suit yourself. But I personally would like to have at least one little drink to celebrate . . . you've always been rather pessimistic if you asked me . . ."

Ronsey was Olistene's roommate, as his parents were not only dead, but he had no memory of them, since they died only a few months after his birth.

They were both seventeen when he was born. It was stupid of them, in Olistene's opinion, to have a child when they could still be reaped. Then again, there was such a high likelihood of death by starvation or mining incidents hdfd in District 12, that it did not really make much difference whether or not you were of reaping age. His parents entered the arena when he was an infant, and they were both killed. He did not know most of the details, nor was he interested in finding them out. It was not one of the Games that he had really seen in his lifetime being as he was all of three months old.

Ronsey was his best friend. Olistene did not know what he would ever do without him. He had no family to take care of him or support him. And Ronsey was his only friend.

"It's our last reaping, Ronsey. If we make it past today, tonight we can celebrate with drinks."

Ronsey sighed and pouted. "Oh, Olistene. Must you really make me wait so long?"

Olistene raised an eyebrow.

"Oh all right," said Ronsey dramatically. "You have yourself a deal, my friend."

**Reaping**

"Thistle Jaylark?"

Romanian Burlingail was an enormous woman who must've been close to seven feet. Her eyelids were thick as a wooden board and were a deep, musty color which matched that of her arms and legs. The rest of her face was left at its natural color, but her hair was woven was streaked with all sorts of bright colors.

Romanian cocked her head to the side every time she spoke before doing so, and spoke every statement as if it was a question, including that of Thistle's name.

Once Thistle had joined her on the stage, Romanian looked at her questioningly, running a hand through a pink strand in her rainbow of hair.

"Luke Torain . . ."

Romanian seemed rather unsure of her reading ability.

Don't cry, Luke, he ordered himself. Just, whatever you do, don't cry. Ember, Marco, Mother, and Father are managing to stay strong for you. The very least you could do is stay strong for them.

He bit down hard on his lip to prevent himself from crying and put on the best brave face he could muster when he walked up to the stage. He was determined to make it through without the tears. But when he thought of his poor family who would miss him so much. Who would need him back home . . . it was just so hard to remain calm. But Luke was going to manage it. He had to.

"Thina . . . Coroey?"

Thina knew that Romanian was talking about her, though Romanian did not seem too sure herself.

She let her tears flow soundlessly, not bothering at first to try and be brave, until she realized, moments later, that it was her duty to stay calm and be brave. She just hoped that her mother would be okay on her own. As she walked up to the stage, she saw an upside to the whole ordeal . . . maybe she could see her father again. But that would take a whole lot of chance, because she knew that there were plenty of Avoxes in the Capitol. With any luck, though, she'd be able to see her father.

"Gordonetty Brill."

Gordonetty was a burly fifteen-year-old girl with hair pulled back into a messy bun, and gray eyes hard as steel.

She was seething at all of the other tributes already on the stage.

Olistene felt bad. That poor little boy, Luke. Olistene knew his mother: when he was young, before he met Ronsey, she took care of him sometimes, when he had nowhere else to go. She did the same, as he knew, with a lot of the children in the district. And then there was Thistle. She was just a little girl; she was obviously not the kind of person who would be simply jumping for joy at the prospect of being sent to the Hunger Games.

And then there was Thina. That poor, innocent little twelve-year-old.

He was not quite sure what gave him the courage and (to be honest) stupidity to do it. But he did it. He did what was almost unheard of in District 12.

"I Volunteer as tribute." His voice sounded choked, as if he regretted saying it halfway through, but then realized that there was no going back.

Olistene took his spot on the stage.

Romanian was looking at him, as if unsure of what was going on, which was, in all likelihood, accurate. She seemed to assume that since no one else appeared unsure of (though there was a lot of confusion and even some bewilderment, followed by respect) what Olistene had done, so she merely continued on with the last name.

"Imogen Culver."

Imogen did not let any emotion shine through the barrier of her face. She refused to let them know what she was thinking. But her thoughts were ones of dread. What was she going to do? There was little to no chance of her survival! What about Jeremiah, Leven, and Father? They were still trying to get back on track after the deaths of Lucille and Mother. How would they take Imogen's death? Especially Jer. He and Imogen were very close. What would be of him? Only time will tell. Only time will tell the answers to any of these questions. She she walked up to the stage, still not letting any emotions show.

**A/N: Whew! The reapings are all finally done! I hope you guys enjoyed reading about all these wonderful characters as much as I enjoyed writing about them :D The next chapter will be the good-byes, and then there will be two chapters for the train rides (6 districts in each). I will post a poll on my profile soon about your favorite tributes from Districts 7-12, so please go vote on that!**

**Thanks so much for reading this, and please review! Remember, as always, you get ten sponsor points for a review, and an extra five for giving me your opinion on the tributes or some of your favorites :D**


	7. Train Rides: Districts 1-6

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games!**

**A/N: Thank you so so much to the wonderfully lovely reviewers of the previous chapter! I really cannot thank you guys enough! Just to let you guys know, I have decided not to do the goodbyes, so this chapter will be the train rides of districts 1-6 and the next will be for 7-12. Sorry to anyone who was looking forward to reading the goodbyes chapter, but I have realized that there is not much point to it.**

**So, without further Adieu . . .**

**District 1 (Nate Brenner, Shine Lancast, Tessa Hart, Bryce Hart, Bronze Tyce, Sterling Lancaster, Sequin Lotus, Wonder Tassels, Nicholas James, Shimmer Silver, and Luster Madden)**

The tributes of District 1 were all sitting around the large television in their compartment of the train, carefully watching the recaps of the reapings.

"You look like shit up their, Shiney."

The tributes had been ordered by their mentors not to speak a word until they had finished watching, except for small comments here and there about how much potential a tribute appears to have, but Tessa simply couldn't help herself when she saw the boy cowering in fear up on the stage from Bryce's threatening looks.

"Shut it girly, we're trying to keep you alive by figuring out the competition, so if you wouldn't mind laying off the scrawny kid for a second, that would be much appreciated!" snapped one of the mentors that year.

His name was Brawn Gilmore and he won the 967th Hunger Games when he was only fourteen. He was a gruff man. Almost always a mentor. He was known for being harsh on the tributes, but he had a good reputation for brining home Victors.

Tessa threw her long blond hair back and sneered at the man. She didn't respect his authority like some of the other tributes might. What did she care what he thought of her? He was just some stupid old man.

District 1 didn't even have as many Victors as the other Career districts. Tessa knew of a time where 1 and 2 were the greatest Career districts, with 4 being secondary to them. Now, however, after centuries of living in luxury, many District 1 tributes were just too prissy for the Games, more focused on their appearance and not willing to get dirty. District 4 had almost caught up to 2 with its one hundred ninety-two Victors. 4 was only two Victors behind 2 and it was humiliating.

"You know what I think, big Victor man? I think you think you're so big and strong because you won just some plain old regular Games. How about this, though. I'll bet you that I come out of the arena this year the Ultimate Victor, victorious over ninety-nine other tributes."

Brawn just growled at her and pointed back to the screen. Tessa's own mentor, Lavish Greed, flicked her on the head and hissed at her to listen to Brawn, who happened to be the mentor of Shimmer. Lucky girl, that Shimmer. (Note the sarcasm.)

Tessa did not listen to any of them. Instead, she said loud and clear in her high-pitched cackle of a voice, "and guess what? Shiney over here will be my first kill!"

Shine pretended not to hear her and tried to focus on the video, rather than the knowledge in his brain that Tessa was sure to keep her promise about killing him. Shine did not even have his own mentor. There were only ten living Victors out of the total of one hundred forty in District 1's history. Well, technically there were eleven, but the oldest was a whopping ninety-one and in no mental or physical state to mentor a tribute in the Games. The Capitol had made her come along anyway, but she was not able to get out of bed without help from her great-grandson who lived in the Victor's Village with her.

Luckily for Shine, who the woman (Rosa) was supposed to mentor, Nate Brenner, one of his district partners, was in the capable hands of Ruby Silve, who was a truly lovely woman, not to mention gorgeous, the former of which Shine was finding to be rarer and rarer among the females from his district. Ruby had decided to sort of take Shine under her wing and try to prepare him for the Games along with Shine. All ten of the mentors were pretty much working together, but it felt good to him to know that he had a personal mentor looking out specifically for him as well.

Shine was grateful that Nate chose to stand up for him at that moment.

"We all want to get home, Tessa. That doesn't mean you can just go around threatening people like that! What did Shine ever do to you?"

Tessa did not respond, but she nudged Bryce and each of the twins gave Nate a meaningful look as if to say, "you're next. Right after we're through with Shine."

Through all of this turmoil, Luster, Nick, and Wonder had risen from the tight District 1 huddle around the television, and were talking silently, having all known each other prior to being reaped.

Wonder pitied Nicholas. The boy was trying, just as he himself was, to obtain a spot higher up on the social ladder. Unfortunately, Nick was having less success than he was. And Wonder was not having very much success at all, so that said something about Nicholas's ability to impress those he wanted to.

Wonder, Luster, and Nicholas all had something in common. They didn't fit in very well. They were all unpopular or overshadowed. The three boys were friendly before the Games, but now they felt as though they had something in common. A common goal. A common enemy.

Their escort, Lexus, approached them.

She was dripping in diamonds once again, and Wonder cold have sworn that her hair was not a bright royal blue when he last saw her at the reaping earlier that day.

"My oh my! It is quite an honor to be the escort for such a wonderful district as this one! How are you boys fairing so far?"

She blinked rapidly at them and they all exchanged a glance. "Uh . . ."

Luster zoned out Lexus's meaningless words and his eyes fell upon the red velvet loveseat and its three occupants who were all squashed together and willingly moving closer by the second.

Sequin was leaning into Bronze's chest, shaking her blond hair out in front of him and puffing up her chest.

Beside her, Bronze was going on some rant about how lucky she and Shimmer (who was sitting on Bronze's other side) were to be next to the greatest man to ever walk the planet.

Luster smirked. Bronze reminded him of Chrome sometimes just to a way further extent. It was actually amusing how much the boy idolized himself.

"Hey, you all over there!" snapped Shimmer's mentor, Brawn. "We're going to have to restart the reaping of 2 just for you, you little pansies!" his voice was a growl. "They don't seem all too strong this year, in most cases. Be warned in case some of the reaped ones - I know, reaped! - from District 2 are on your team. You may think they're real, hardy Careers, when in fact, they have about as much training as this one over here."

Brawn's tanned finger was pointing directly at Shine, whose face turned the same color as his bright red hair.

Shine had thought Brawn was sticking up for him, to some extent at least. He was wrong to have ever thought that. All the man cared about was getting through his videos.

Ruby, however, offered Shine a sweet smile.

Her hair was smooth and dark, which was not very common for District 1, and her eyes were a pale blue.

Shine returned the smile shakily and tried to sink lower into his leather seat. He just did not seem to belong with all of these vicious Careers, save Nate, Ruby (who was not even a tribute that year, but a mentor) and maybe a couple of others. They would squash him like a bug - his own district partners! - without even a backward glance.

Because Shine Lancast was an easy target. And he knew he was.

**District 2 (Annastasia Karma, Danielle Karma, Carter Karma, Storm Forene, Snow Forene, Julius Medicus, Branwen Radke, Alissi Zane, Lucille Mason, Evangeline Mason, Artemis Marble, Amber Fox, and Kat Powers)**

"What are you talking about?!" Alissi demanded. "I'm going to be the Ultimate Victor and we all know it! You can just shove off, Artemis! You're not fooling anyone into thinking that you even have a chance against me."

All of District 2 had been sitting around a rectangular table, trying to configure (with guidance from their thirteen mentors) some possible strategies for the Games. Of course, putting thirteen tributes from a Career district together at a table and trying to have a nice, calm, civil conversation might not have been the best idea on the mentors' parts. And, lo and behold, an argument had sprung up almost immediately between Alissi and Artemis over who would be the Ultimate Victor, each girl completely confident in her own abilities and each too stubborn to back off for the sake of peace before the Games begun.

"Ladies, ladies," said Julius. "Let's break this up. There's no need to fight about this."

Julius felt odd about his position among his district partners. He felt as though he was not popular among them. As though he could fade into the shadows. He was not being noticed by all of these girls and he did not like it.

No one bothered to answer him when he spoke. Julius would have to work a lot harder to gain popularity with these people than he did back home, despite these tributes being from his own district. He had a large crowd of friends back home, but these were just not them. Maybe he shouldn't even bother; he would be separated from them shortly and given a whole new team of people to befriend.

Annie, Dani, and Carter were all grasping hands, a little further from everyone else, not bothering with Alissi and Artemis's argument. Carter was shaking furiously, and his sisters were trying to soothe him, but to little avail.

Carter felt out of place. As though he did not belong. He was by far the youngest one there. Almost all of the other tributes were seventeen besides for sixteen-year-old Dani and eighteen-year-old Annie. Not to mention the discomfort he felt at the fact that there were only two other boys there. How had it happened that there were virtually no male tributes from District 2 this year in comparison to the females? Carter sank lower into his chair. He almost wished he had not Volunteered. Sure, he wanted to protect Annie and Dani, but how much good could a twelve-year-old do in the arena? He would probably just be a burden to them. He would just wind up getting himself killed and dragging Annie and Dani along with him.

Another thought occurred to him: what if he and the girls were split up? What if they were on three different teams, or two of them were on one team and one on the other. Carter slid slightly away from Annie and Dani, feeling uncomfortable with that thought in his head, and his gaze shifted to Storm and Snow who were having a whispered conversation that Carter could not hear. He wondered what they were saying.

Evie Mason must have seen the fearful look on Carter's face, because she gave him a sympathetic smile. She turned away almost instantly (after throwing him an apologetic glance) when Luce nudged her on the shoulder.

"What are you two whispering about so ferociously?" said Amber slyly to Storm and Snow.

The twins immediately stopped their conversation.

"Nothing," said Storm simply, but mysteriously. "We were not talking about anything that should be of any concern to you."

Meanwhile, Alissi and Artemis were still going at each other without break.

"You know I bet you think that just because you're taller than me and," she scoffed, "'prettier' than me, and that your mother was a Victor that you'll be one to, huh? Don't you Zany McBlond?"

Alissi puffed out her chest and glared at Artemis with as much hatred as she could.

"Girls, can we please get back to business? If you guys want to do this strategizing individually then we can do that, but really, can't we just have a conversation with the whole district together without tearing each other apart?" the mentor who had spoken was an older one, Silena Brays, the Victor of the 986th Games. Her long glossy black hair was streaked with gray and her face was lined despite her being barely into her thirties. It was well known that Silena had suffered from severe stress and lack of sleep since her Games which was still going on. She was generally not needed to mentor, but this year with so many District 2 tributes it was necessary for her to mentor as well. Her personal tribute that year was Brandy, but District 2 was trying to work together as a whole until they were split off into teams, which they assumed most if not all other districts were attempting to do.

Silena smiled at Branwen, grateful that her own tribute was not starting fights. Brandy smiled back on the outside, but it was a weak smile.

As Artemis and Alissi tore each other apart with words, Brandy was not listening. She was thinking about just yesterday when being reaped had not even occurred to her. And yet, now here she was. Going to the Games. Going to die. So while most of her district partners were celebrating their "wonderful opportunity," Branwen was trembling with fear on the inside.

**District 3 (Azura Night, Onyx Black, Thatcher Corrs, Tilde Shay, Kali Hailstorm, Athena Blue, Claire Redfield, Pierce Lockwood, and Cyb Cable)**

Over the past 999 years worth of Hunger Games, eighty-one of the tributes that had come out alive were from District 3. 3 had the second highest track record of Victors from all of the nine non-Career districts; second only to 7.

Unfortunately, seventy-eight of those Victors were gone. A thing of the past. Leaving only three mentors for the nine District 3 tributes in the 1000th annual Games. And then, of course, was portly little Veron, their dear old escort from the Capitol.

The only living female Victor from 3 was a woman by the name of Sprinka Bites, the Victor of the 964th annual Hunger Games, and a wise woman to say the least. Her fellow tributes in the 964th Games learned never to judge a book by its cover and assume from her bright blond hair and big blue eyes that her looks were by no means all she had going for her. Sprinka won when she was sixteen, but her wisdom at the time easily could have matched that of most adults. Her Games ended rather feebly, compared to most others. Sprinka had no direct kills, though she had been the cause of four deaths. The guilt was eating at her, and it still wore her down upon ocassion. She knew she needed to end it. The other tribute was the male from 4. He knew she was smart. She let him see her eating some edible berries, knowing that all of the Career supplies were destroyed or used up and he was in desperate need of food. Sprinka replaced the berries with poisonous ones. The boy ate them, and he was dead within seconds. It was as simple as that. And yet, Sprinka's guilt at the murder of five people was a hard burden to bear, and no one would say that she fully succeeded in doing so.

Sprinka would be mentoring Azura, Athena, and Claire that year, which all three girls were ecstatic about, despite knowing that that didn't mean anything much because the whole district would be working together until they were split off into teams.

Azura and Athena, being the same age, were friends from school, and Claire, harboring a soft spot for children, couldn't help but feel her heart melt slightly at the thought of five children under the age of fifteen entering the arena from her home district alone, especially the two fun-loving, spunky, optimistic twelve-year-olds she shared a mentor with.

Azura and Athena were sure to lighten the general mood among the tributes, even being able to bring a smile to the face of Kali, which, as Pierce joked lightly, did not even seem possible. Kali even laughed along with Pierce at his humor.

Tilde, Kali, and Pierce had formed an unlikely friendship with the other tributes from the district, yes, but especially with each other upon discovering that they would all be personally mentored by Grent Jarvitz. Grent was wheelchair due to paralysis of his legs, but his mind was intact as ever, and Kali's spiteful comment on his condition at first went unanswered by the man. She resented the fact that he did not burst into tears like her usual victims, but Tilde respected him for it. Pierce admired him greatly for always refusing to give up no matter what sort of obstacle was

Though Onyx, Thatcher, and Cyb were grouped together as well, the District 3 tributes were not truly divided as such mentioned. They were all united. A unified district. They had one common goal. One common enemy. They were almost all alike in one way or another, whether it be for their personality, background, or anything of the sort, the tributes from 3 all knew that they would stick together until they were given a new group of people to stick to (and those people they would sure as hell stick to till the end) and maybe even beyond. If these Games had done anything in the affirmative, it gave the tributes a family of sorts. It gave them their district partners. Their future teams. A sense of pride in the Career districts, and unity in those like three, amongst the fellow tributes (well, save maybe Kali.)

The only other living Victor from 3 (and subsequently the final mentor) was Lecter Leste. Lecter was the Victor of the 945th Games, only one year after Grent. Yes, that's right, District 3 had two Victors in a row at one point. Too bad the streak didn't last. Or maybe not too bad. It depends on how the situation is perceived. It depends on whether the citizens and tributes of District 3 view it as preferable to be killed in innocence, or continue to live, only because you were transformed from an ordinary teenager - a child - into a killer. It happened to many in the country known as Panem, and it will no doubt continue. Because in Panem, children are sent into the Hunger Games. And the Hunger Games means death. The Hunger Games means murder.

**District 4 (Valencia Reese, Andromeda DeCoralis, Cassandra Vale, Wade Lockhearst, Rhiannon Holloway, Emerson Nottishime, Isabelle Moriarty, Caspian Orman, Derek Bluetip, Leah Hunter, Oceanlena Manae, Madeline Kent, and Freya Kent)**

Agatha LaRouge was giving them all a run-down of how beautifully they had done at the reaping. "Really, Andi, your outfit was just fab, girl, you go, girl!" Agatha gave Andromeda an obvious wink before turning to comment on Maddie and Freya's charming matching dresses and how Rhiannon's darling shoes really brought out her eyes.

As the escort rambled on, Andi gave her mentor an amused look. Rye was a kind man and well known in District 4 as such. Andromeda was so relieved to have been given Rye, whilst some of her fellow District 4 tributes were not nearly as lucky. Take Ocean for example, who was stuck with Kai Brennings. Kai was supposedly incapable of doing anything but standing around sulking all day and wallowing in self-pity over the death of his sister in the Games a few years back.

"We got this, now don't we District 4?" Agatha concluded. "And just by the way, ladies, I'm hoping to see a lot of chic outfits from your stylists." She let out a laugh. "You too boys! Hey, Derek, remember that joke you told Leah on the way up here to try and impress her? Well, personally, I found it rather adorable, don't think I'm trashing your opinion, Leah, you're a doll, really, girl . . ."

No one seemed to notice Isabelle pacing back and forth at the very back of the train compartment. Her knife had been confiscated, and she appeared to be at a loss without it.

Caspian suddenly saw her back there out of the corner of his eye. He rose to go find out what was going on with her, but the crazed, fiery look in her eyes contributed far more to his sitting right back down than Agatha's exclamation of, "Caspian, darling, we were about to get to your chic clothes, please bear with me!"

Valencia eyed Isabelle oddly. She knew Isabelle from back home, and there had always been something incredibly off about that girl. Isabelle made her feel tense. Uneasy. The blood that was dripping (on occasion) from Isabelle's body, or (more often) from that of a victim of hers was a constant reminder to Valencia of Tanya's death, and Valencia could hardly stand it.

Whilst Wade attempted to cheer up Cassandra and Ocean, both of whom were pretty freaked out about the Games, Agatha's long stream of compliments were cut short by another of the mentors snapping at her to get out of the way so that he could have a word with the tributes "before they enter the arena, would be nice," he added, causing the escort to blush, put on a pouting expression, cross her arms across her chest, and take a seat directly near Maddie, Freya, and Wade so that she could keep up the conversation between them, hoping not to be called out once again by a mentor.

**District 5 (Logan Hanes, Blue Halloran, Galileo Esis, Dina Edison, Ember Fox, Solo White, Minerva Calls, and Blakely Lewis)**

"We ain't really gonna do this are we?" Blakely scoffed at one of District 5's mentors, Buzzya Welter, who had come up with the suggestion for them all to go around the room and introduce themselves, just to make sure that all of the District 5 tributes recognized each other.

Minerva sniffed. "'Ain't' is not a real word."

"Do ya think I care?" Blakely countered.

Minerva held her head up high and placed one hand on her hip. "Well, I'm not really sure whether or not you care. But I do know that you should, because it's important for people to speak proper English, in an English-speaking country." She said all of this without much intensity, but rather with an air of knowing that one is right, and knowing that one will not be willing to acknowledge defeat.

Who did this girl think she was? And did she really think that Blakely and Loot worried about 'proper English' when they were trying to stay alive? Blakely knew stealing, not proper grammar. She rolled her eyes, but did not bother to press the matter any further.

While the mentor (a remarkably chirpy girl, having been a tribute once upon a time, who could go on talking for hours) gave her long-winded explanation to Blakely on the importance of district unity and such, Galileo looked around. She was taking in all of the scenery as the train moved at a fast pace to the Capitol, the other tributes, and just about anything else she could lay her eyes on. Lil would be lying if she said that she was not excited for her trip to the Capitol. It was an opportunity for her scientist side to shine through and learn about the intriguing way of thinking and way of life of the Capitol people.

A pair of gray eyes peered out through two thick lenses. Lil's glasses were her token from her district. She looked through the thick lenses around until her eyes fell upon Solo, the youngest tribute from her district, who was apparently somewhat of a ladies' man, and thought that his "charming good looks" could work as well on older girls as they did on other twelve-year-olds.

Dina was sitting next to Solo, each on a plush cushion. Solo was encroaching, little by little, into Dina's space, to which she appeared quite uncomfortable.

Poor girl, thought Lil. First she faints upon hearing her name called at the reaping, and now a twelve-year-old was trying to make a move on her and she clearly did not know how to say no to him without hurting his feelings.

Evidently, Dina could not take it anymore eventually, because she picked herself up from there, her flaming red hair fanning out behind her as she took a seat in between Blue and Logan on the other side of the train.

Solo's face fell. The poor boy was obviously not often rejected, but really, what else was Dina supposed to do?

Ember got up and sat down in Dina's previous seat, which made Solo smile, glad to have a companion once again.

"So." Concluded the Buzzya. "Now, shall we all introduce ourselves?"

The tributes all nodded reluctantly and did so, starting, ironically enough, with Blakely; Minerva going second.

**District 6 (Lola Briks, Demitri Edenoff, Paul Smith, Leon Rockchester, Sky Valefore, Aston Jeffries, Macer Denyard, and Skylar Byke)**

Lola was crying. Once again.

Demitri put an arm around her shoulder awkwardly as her golden ringlets bobbed up and down while she sobbed. Though she was only two years younger than himself, Lola almost reminded him of Rheanna, though perhaps his seven-year-old sister was less weepy.

"It's alright, Lola. You're going to be just fine," he attempted to soothe her.

Lola shrugged, but her sobbing died down slightly and she sunk further into her chair, her bright blue eyes wide in fear and filled with the innocence of youth. The Hunger Games were just not a place for a person like Lola.

Leon and Skylar were having a conversation nearby. Leon was intrigued by her, and she was explaining to him about how she used a cane to feel her way around.

"That's interesting," came the voice of Paul Smith. Leon had not seen Paul coming and jumped at the sound of his voice, the impact of his leap from his seat unexpectedly nearly knocking tiny little Skylar over when he did not notice himself bumping into her.

Skye laughed. "Thanks. Well that was fun, Leon. Maybe next time you can actually knock me over." Skylar laughed happily, considering Leon a friend to her now, and Leon soon joined in.

Sky Valefore, eager to join the group of friendly chatter and laughter, made her way over to where the crowd was surrounding a red velvet seat on which Skylar was seated, her cane laying temporarily dormant next to her.

Separate from everyone else, off to the side, were Aston and Macer. Aston was sitting in Macer's arms and he was attempting to comfort her.

Aston sighed, exasperated. "Mace, why would you Volunteer? I just don't get it. What did that accomplish? And don't just say that you think you can win because I probably know you better than anyone on this planet, Macer Denyard, and I know that you've never had any intentions of entering the Games."

Macer tried changing the topic. "I'm sure the sponsors will love you, Aston. What with the glimpse they saw of your dad's situation, being confined to a wheelchair, plus your spunky, fiery personality. I myself might have some trouble gaining sponsors . . ."

"Macer, how much more random could you get?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

Her best friend gave her a meaningful look, begging her not to make him tell her that she had Volunteered to protect her, even though he knew that she had almost definitely figured it out, it would make it all the more real for her to hear it coming directly from his mouth.

Macer did not think that he was going to be let off the hook that easily, but, for once in her life, Aston did not question Macer any further.

**A/N: First off, thank you so much for reading this chapter, and I apologize that it's shorter than the others!**

**Now, I'm not so sure how I feel about this chapter; I don't think it came out very well, so I would greatly appreciate it if any of you who agreed with me on that offered some constructive tips for me on how to improve for the next train rides chapter.**

**Or just let me know whether you liked it or not!**

**Please, give me some opinions on some of the tributes in this chapter! I love to hear your thoughts on them and I'll still give you an extra 5 points (plus the 10 you get for reviewing) if you give me more of an opinion than you already gave me on some tributes :)**

**Again, thank you all so so much! Just so you know, I am going away for spring break for 2 weeks and I don't think I'll have much time to write while I'm away, so the next update might be a little slower than usual :( Sorry guys!**


	8. Train Rides: Districts 7-12

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games!**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter! Here's the next one :) I hope you like it and please please review :D**

**Sorry for the wait between updates, but I did warn you guys about it, didn't I?**

**District Seven (Samanna Phillips, Conan Redfeer, Terro Mavas, Sapphire Evana, Sylvie Winters, Adonis Edele, Alvara Edele, Riley O'Connor, and Sam Conner)**

Conan was talking up a storm. He knew it and he knew that the other eight tributes along with all of the mentors and the escort were well aware of the fact that he could not shut up. But for Conan, starting a conversation was second nature. And once he starting chattering, he simply could not stop.

"So you're married?" he asked Riley. "Really? But you're like, what, eighteen? I can't believe a chick went for you already! I mean, don't get me wrong man, nothing wrong with you. That was just unexpected.

"Do you come with an off button?" Samanna grumbled.

"Uh, sorry . . ." Conan looked abashed and sunk into his chair a little bit. He was just trying to be friendly. Clearly Samanna was not feeling it though.

Sam Conner gave Conan a sympathetic smile and Conan perked up again.

"So are you two really brother and sister?" he inquired. This time, though, his attention was directed at Adonis and Alvara.

Alvara nodded and clucked her tongue once before speaking. "Yeah. He's my baby brother. So don't you mess with him, kid."

Sam winced at Alvara's slightly hostile tone but did not say anything.

Sylvie Winters, like Sam, did not say a word to her fellow tributes throughout the whole train ride to the Capitol. She sat rooted to her spot the entire ride, with only the occasional mutter of a name. Conan caught a few of them, like "Ruby" and "Hewett" and he wondered who these people were and how she knew them. For once, however, he had enough sense not to ask.

"Terro." Riley's voice was quiet and no one else even looked, aware that this was a private matter.

Sapphire did not move however, when Riley motioned for her to do so from her seat which was so close to Terro's, it almost looked like she was sitting on his lap.

She raised an eyebrow at Riley. "Terro's my friend. Anything you want him to know I think you can tell me too, can't you?"

Riley considered for a while before sighing in defeat. "Alright. Just come over to this couch you two." He pointed to a plush leather seat out of reach of the ears of their district partners. "I want Alvara to come too."

When Riley returned with Alvara at his side, Terro and Sapphire stopped their chatter and looked up at Riley expectantly.

"Well," Riley blushed awkwardly. He cleared his throat. "So guys, as you know, I have a family of my own back home. You know. I'm not just a son or a brother or a friend. I'm also a husband. A father. And Terro, Alvara, I know you guys from home, from District Seven, and." He inhaled and exhaled sharply. "And I know that there's not a great chance that I'll get to see my wife or daughter again."

Terro gave him a sad smile that he hoped provided some support.

Riley continued. "But you guys - and Sapphire, you too I guess - you're my friends from home and, I know I've never been so close to you guys but, just please. Make sure that Terra and Wren are okay if- if you make it out and I don't. I swear, I'll do the same for your sisters, Terro, or- or anyone. I just need to know that I've at least done something to help keep my family safe if I die."

Sapphire sniffed a little and tears dotted her eyes. She and Alvara both nodded worlessly.

"Of course," said Terro without hesitation. "And you'll help my family if you make it out and I don't?"

"Without a doubt. I said I would, didn't I?"

For the first time since his name was called, Riley felt like he could smile. He knew it wasn't much and these three people did not have much likelihood of coming out of the arena in anything but a box either, but at least it was something. At least there was some tiny comfort that his beloved Terra and his daughter would be okay if he was killed.

"Thank you." Riley's voice was smaller than little Conan's pinkie finger when he said the words, but still, he said them. And he didn't think that he had ever been more grateful for anything in his entire life, besides maybe the day Terra decided to marry him or the day someone found little Wren after she almost got lost in the park.

"Thank you," he repeated, slightly louder this time.

**District Eight (Colleen Reyna, Jesse Tanner, Alixa Kirk, Fiona Saxon, Harmony Alora, Poppy Edwards, and Bree Crystals)**

Bree shifted awkwardly in her seat, trying hard to avoid Jesse's gaze as Colleen observed her quizzically.

She knew Colleen was calculating, trying to figure out what was going on with her and Jesse. To be honest, there was nothing going on between her and Jesse, nor had there ever been. When Bree had tried to seduce him, Jesse just ran off saying that he had to go pick up Colleen's baby brother or something. But maybe that was part of the problem. It was rather awkward in Bree's opinion, she just hoped that Jesse did not take revenge on her for it or something in the arena.

"Name?" The mentor was all business.

Not that anyone would ever question him though. This was Cump Basil, the legendary Victor of the 975th Hunger Games. For the Quarter Quell that year, each reaped person had to choose someone of their gender of eligible reaping age to compete in their place. Cump was hated in District Eight. He pretty much knew that just about anyone who was reaped would choose him to take their place. And he won.

Eight had another living Victors, but they all seemed quite afraid of Cump. Cump killed four tributes in the Bloodbath alone ending up with six kills total!

"Alixa Kirk."

"Name?"

"Fiona Saxon." Fiona's lip trembled when Cump stared directly into her eyes and Alixa smirked at her.

"Name?"

But Poppy could not speak. Tears were leaking down her face from all corners of her innocent little eyes and she was audibly sobbing.

"I asked you what you're name is, girlie!" he snapped. "I wouldn't disrespect the authority of Cump Basil if I were you."

"Leave the poor girl alone!"

Cump rounded on Jesse. Well, it was his job to stand up for little Poppy, wasn't it? He was the only male tribute from District Eight participating in the thousandth Games. He felt it was almost his duty to stand up for the youngest girl from his home district.

"And what's _your _name, boy?" Cump demanded.

"Jesse Tanner, pleased to meet you," Jesse stuck out his hand.

Cump scowled at first, but soon his lined featured rearranged themselves into a smile. "I like your attitude, boy. You'll go far."

Jesse took a little bow.

"Name?" Apparently, Cump decided to take Jesse's advice and give Poppy a break.

Harmony, however, did not speak either for a while.

The girl appeared almost hollow; sunken.

"Harmony," she whispered after the long pause. She seemed unfazed by Cump's cold stare. "Harmony Alora."

The croak of Harmony's voice left Cump equally unfazed as his expression did her.

"Name?"

"Bree Crystals," said Bree with a blush.

"And finally, you. What's your name, Blondie?"

"L-Lena," choked Colleen. Jesse put up his hand enthusiastically to give her a high-five. Lena looked around for a second and blushed before lightly patting her best friend's hand now suspended in midair.

"Okay, then, District Eight. It seems as though you children may have some sort of a shot this year. We shall see. Until then: let's talk strategy."

**District Nine (Fantasia Coole, Husk, Lauren Thresh, Rye Kuna, Arley Rynett, and Ceres Grant)**

Lauren felt like all eyes were on her. She was the odd one out among these people. She was the Volunteer, the one who's brother should actually be there in all honesty.

She felt she ought to attempt to make some friends. The only ones of her district partners she recognized were Rye and Ceres, but she wasn't particularly friendly with either of them and she wasn't quite sure how to start a conversation with one of those two.

She tapped a snowy-haired girl on the shoulder.

The girl whipped around and immediately blushed a deep scarlet.

"I'm Lauren," she said, though the girl probably already knew that.

"Fantasia," the blue eyed girl choked. "Fantasia Coole that is."

The two girls made casual conversation as Rye addressed Husk.

"Do you know who I am?" asked Rye, enunciating each syllable. "Do you recognize me?"

Husk just sat there, staring off, blank as a sheet.

"He doesn't talk?" asked a soft voice. Ceres played with her braid.

"I don't think so," said Rye. "I sort of know him from before and I've never heard him speak . . ."

"Oh."

Arley tapped his foot, impatient for the train to reach the Capitol. He wondered what it would be like there. He vaguely heard the conversations going on around him but did not partake in any. he was too lost in his own thoughts. He would miss his little gang of friends back home. He would miss his parents too, despite the minute amount of time he spent with them. Most of the time it was just him and the guys.

The Games would be hell. So he would go through hell on earth just so he could be killed by some bloodthirsty Career with a few screws loose. Exciting? Now exactly.

At least he might be able to sneak a bottle or two of alcohol from the Capitol. Maybe he could compare it to the taste of the beer he and his gang brew.

They were now passing through District Four, and even Arley, who did not have much of an eye for beauty, had to admit that the view was exquisite.

District Four was covered in dusty white sand which contrasted the clear blue ocean waters nicely. A nearby fisherman saw the train and waved in its general direction. It would have been nice of him if he were not so cheery about the six kids from Nine being sent to their death.

Arley shook his head. Sometimes the citizens of the Career districts were almost as stupid as the Capitol when it came to how they value human life. Almost, but not quite.

**District 10 (Ariel Roam, Gracen Heme, Mike Sanderson, Lark Harper, Lucas Griffin, and Luna Galaxia)**

Gracen sunk bashfully into his seat at the first sight he saw after Ariel's face. The boy seated directly next to him had bruises and gashes spread sporadically about his face and neck. Gracen gulped and scooted closer to Ariel. he felt sorry for the boy, he really did. But he couldn't help but think that the boy must've done something to deserve so much punishment beyond simple berating.

The boy did not bother to start a conversation, even as his eyes rested on Gracen's own, behind the younger boy's wiry little glasses. Gracen was just a tad frightened.

The tributes were not alone. They were accompanied not only by the big blue eyes of Lyra, their escort, but also the five living Victors of the Hunger Games who resided in District Ten. Four of them were female, Gracen noticed. That was something he had never really paid attention to until now. Ten had not had a victory in two centuries until one of these very people (the male) came along. After he won he led these four lovely ladies to victory. One of them, Layra, became victorious only two years ago. If she had not been reaped then she would still be of reaping age now and it was odd for Luna to think that this girl who would be helping to guide her to victory (hopefully) was actually about her age.

Blake Hempley was the Victor of the 956th Games. He was getting older, but there was not a single shred of doubt in any of their minds that he was still more than capable of bringing them or one of their district partners home.

The only problem was that District Ten was far from the only district with capable mentors. And even upbeat Lark or Lucas would not deny the fact that the tributes themselves this year were greatly lacking some of the potential shown by some other districts, particularly the Career ones.

But maybe, just maybe, one of them would be able to get black home. To see the cattle strewn District Ten again and relish in it and embrace it. Maybe, just maybe, one of them came out as the Ultimate Victor, in which case they would have the power to select the tributes for next year's Games and they could thereby protect the families and friends of their district partners that were of reaping age, if not the current tributes themselves.

Maybe.

This year was different. This year they would be split off into teams. This year there were probably so many Careers that there might not be a single team lacking Careers. One might say that it's lucky to have Careers on your team being from an outer district. Others might say that it's anything but lucky. That having to deal with them during what will most likely be the last weeks of your life for a bit of an increased chance at them not being the last weeks of your life is simply not worth it. Still others might argue that the ability to kill does not give one the ability to win necessarily - the amount of Victors that have been produced by Career districts, however, should outlaw that opinion, however. But whichever view may be correct on whether it wise to want careers on your team coming from an outer district it does not matter.

Because the tributes did not have a choice. That was the whole point of the Games in the first place. For them, there was no such thing as a choice. They were forced to send one boy and one girl every year to die at the hands of the Gamemakers or a fellow tribute. And no one could argue.

**District 11 (Wisteria Bay, Nathaniel Green, Matilda Drew, Izzy Pure, and Raven Garroway)**

Wisteria surveyed her four district partners, her dark eyes piercing through them as she observed them and listened to their talking, crying, whatever it was.

She'd already given them all labels: The boy was a pessimist; the youngest girl was naive; the taller one of the other two was a chatterbox; the final girl was fierce.

There. She already had them all figured out. They were all just little kids. If she wanted to she could probably take the ring that Naive was holding that must be her token without little Naive even noticing through her tears. But she wouldn't. At least not just yet.

Wisteria knew that she would be able to survive in the arena off of stealing. She did a great job of blending in, especially at night. So she hated the fact that she had to go to the Games in the first place, yes, but at least she knew she had a better chance than Chatterbox over there. Certainly a better shot than Naive.

Wisteria did not want to see these children get hurt, but she would not kid herself, and she did not think they should either. Their chances were slim.

Chatterbox - Izzy, Wisteria was pretty sure was her real name - seemed to be trying to instill some of her energy into Pessimist - Nathaniel - but the boy only sad there, muttering about how they were all going to die and no one would even care.

Izzy and Fierce (Raven was her actual name) both interested Wisteria. They were both Volunteers. They both had siblings only a year younger whom they Volunteered for. That intrigued Wisteria. Surely a thirteen-year-old should not be playing "Brave Big Sister" when it came to something as serious as the Games, right? That wasn't Wisteria's business though.

Izzy seemed to give up on trying to liven Nathaniel up and she turned to attempt to cheer Matilda up.

Wisteria snorted. _Good luck with that, Chatterbox._

**District 12 (Thistle Jaylark, Luke Torain, Imogen Culver, Thina Coroey, and Olistene Nityel)**

Thina's necklace dug uncomfortably into her skin as she tugged on it with a firm grip. She had decided that it would be her district token as each tribute was allowed one in the Games.

Thina found herself quite lucky. For Thina, there was an upside to being reaped. A small one due to the fact that she would be killed soon after being reunited with her father (if she even was, that is) but an upside nonetheless. She could imagine running up into his arms like she used to when she was a little girl and hugging him without worrying what anyone else in the world thought as long as her Daddy loved her.

An upside. There was an upside to this for Thina. As far as she knew, though, there were a heaping pile of downsides for Thistle, Luke, Imogen, and Olistene without even the world's most minute portion of conveniences brought to them. Nope, not even that.

The silence was getting awkward in her opinion, though it seemed to be an opinion that no one shared. Why did she feel the need to break the silence now? She was shy. A quiet girl. She hardly even opened her mouth when spoken to around strangers let alone start a conversation.

"Hi, I'm Thina," she blurted, and immediately shut her mouth. She did not know where the hell she had gotten the courage to introduce herself so suddenly like that, especially when the other tributes all seemed perfectly content with the silence that dragged on around them.

"Luke," one boy who looked to be a couple of years older than her extended a hand. "Luke Torain."

Thina smiled kindly at Luke but was too embarrassed to do anything more than that. His eyes were soft though, and his touch of her hand was sweet to which Thina took comfort.

"Imogen," one of the raven haired girls piped up.

Imogen had been lost in her thoughts and dreams of somehow evading the Games and getting back home to Leven and Jeremiah in District Twelve. She snorted at herself for allowing those thoughts to even begin to make their way into her brain. She was just going to have to face the fact that she would not be coming home. Tributes from Twelve never came home. In a millennia's worth of Hunger Games, only seventeen tributes from Twelve had come out alive. They were pathetic, at least in the eyes of the Capitol and the Career districts.

She was trying to put some softness into her voice when she introduced herself to the young freckle-faced girl but it was a hard feat to accomplish when thoughts of one's own death are on one's mind.

Imogen nodded at the boy who had called himself Luke, along with the two dark haired girls. Little freckle-faced blue-eyed Thina and dark, olive skinned . . . Thistle? Imogen thought that was her name.

She noticed that the oldest out of all of them had his fists clenched tightly at his side and he appeared to be angry.

"Are you Olistene?" she inquired tentatively.

"That'd be the name," he muttered dryly, "don't wear it out."

"You Volunteered." She had not intended for the words to come out like an accusation.

"I Volunteered," he repeated.

"But you regret it?"

This time he did not say a word.

Imogen tried again. "Well why'd you do it, then? If you regret it I mean."

"I never said I regretted it!" he snapped. "Now would you mind just leaving me alone."

Imogen put her hands up in defeat. "All right. Fine. I was just trying to make conversation here."

"Go make conversation with the other little children."

**A/N: Okay, so again I'd like a review on my writing if you guys can! Any tributes standing out to you from these districts yet? Next chapter is the chariot rides and I can hardly contain my excitement! Eep! Anyway, please review everyone! I'd love to know what you thought of the chapter, of the tributes, and, of course, of my writing in general :D**


	9. Chariot Rides

**Disclaimer: I son't own the Hunger Games!**

**A/N: Thanks so much to all who reviewed the last chapter! And we've made it to the Capitol! Finally! I'm so excited! This is the Chariot Rides chapter :D I hope you all like it! Please let me know in a review what you thought :) Oh, and to JabberjayHeart: Well, Coral Reef, it seems as though your style for heading the POVs has rubbed off on me. Sorry, hope you don't mind ;)**

* * *

**Pierce Lockwood, 18, District Three Male**

* * *

Clathie, Daria, and Marco snipped at his hair and made up his face with their excited hands. And Pierce enjoyed every minute of it. Daria gushed about what a handsome young man he was and Pierce sent a sexy grin her way. At home, Nick got pretty much all of the attention from his parents and he was not afraid to flaunt it in Pierce's face. Here, in the Capitol, at least for this tiny little period of time, he was getting the non-stop attention of his prep-team and they were loving him.

At home, he was pretty sure only his mother loved him.

Here, he was being called handsome by pretty much total strangers.

Marco reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver, sharp-looking object.

Pierce winced when Marco, the quietest of the three, plucked at the hair between his eyebrows.

"So District Three, huh?" questioned Marco in a low voice as Clathie and Daria chirped happily to one another about a grand party thrown by a mutual friend to which they were both invited.

"Yeah." Pierce's voice croaked a bit from lack of use and he coughed, causing Clathie to let out a yelp from where she had been giving him a clean shave.

"Sorry," he muttered to Clathie and resolved to keep his mouth shut until they completed whatever it was they were doing unless he was spoken to.

The prep team worked in silence for a moment, the only sound being Clathie's high-pitched hums and squeals as she worked on him.

Pierce couldn't help himself. "You sing?"

Clathie giggled merrily. "Only while I work! Hee-hee!"

"I sing too," he offered. "Well, sometimes I do. I mostly play instruments: Guitar, ukelele, violin . . ."

He realized that Clathie was no longer listening and his cheeks flushed with pink.

"That's lovely, Pierce," Daria grinned at him and shook her long green and purple hair out behind her.

"Will you get back to work, Daria?" Marco demanded in his low, quiet voice.

Daria's nose - blatantly upturned and dotted with purple and green (to match her long dyed hair) through surgery - wrinkled and her nostrils flared up. It was an expression, Pierce noticed, that she wore quite often when addressing Marco and he had to bite back a laugh at the way she cocked her said so far to the side that it pressed into her shoulder when she opened her mouth to speak.

"If I want to talk to Pierce, Marco," she spat, "then he and I shall make whatever conversation we please free of interference on your part? Got that?"

She stayed like that for a full minute. And then, as if she had forgotten about Marco and Pierce entirely, she returned to gossiping with Clathie about who was not invited to the party with an air of lightness.

Pierce felt slightly uncomfortable in his position there. Mere moments ago he had been reveling in the fact that for once he was getting all the attention. For once it was even possible that at home his father was worrying about him and not paying attention to Nick's irksome comments and demands. He was certain that that was the case with his mother. His mother loved him.

Contrary to that pleasant feeling of warmth; of being loved and known and wanted, now he was feeling ignored all over again. The three of them were lost (in the case of Marco) either in their work at making him appear presentable for when the stylist came in, or not even bothering (in that of the two girls) to help prepare him, as they clearly had more important things to chat about than Pierce's outfit for the Chariot Ride, which very well might help him survive in the arena if he was able to gain sponsors through it or his love for music, which was not absolutely necessary to talk about, but Pierce loved talking about his music so he had assumed that it made for interesting conversation in the opinion of others. Clearly he had been wrong as even cheery, humming Clathie and Daria, who had called him handsome and sexy, had tuned him out. Maybe he was just a boring person to talk to and he should stop trying to get the attention of these people from the Capitol who were only here because his slight tan was not deep enough or his smile was not charming enough, being tainted by some tiny facial feature.

After a while of the silence which Pierce found so uncomfortable, Clathie, Daria, and Marco stood up, satisfied.

Marco's expression was one of blank indifference, but Clathie and Daria were obviously pleased with themselves and they gave each other a rather awkward hug.

The stylist was about to enter which meant that the prep team's time to shine was just about over, but on her way out, Daria through a smile over her shoulder and dangled her fingers at Pierce.

Huh. Maybe they had been paying attention to him after all. Maybe they had really cared what he had to say.

Pierce felt the skin around his dark brown eyes crinkle as his pink lips lifted up into a smile.

* * *

**Annastasia "Annie" Karma, 18, District Two Female**

* * *

"Mom?"

The word came out of Annie's mouth unexpected. She was more than a bit surprised to see her mother's face beaming at her. The only thing recognizable about her mother's face were the blue eyes belonging unmistakably to Annie Karma's mother being as they matched her own pair so well that she could have been looking in a mirror had she not focused in on the rest of Estrella's newly made up face.

"Annie! Dearie!" The stylist gave Annie a kiss on each cheek, leaving the girl still bewildered as to what was going on.

"Y-you're my stylist, Mom?"

Estrella laughed. The sound reminded Annie of the one that made an appearance whenever Carter dropped a glass - he wasn't very coordinated - which always made Dani wince and Annie mimicked her sixteen-year-old sister at that moment.

"No, darling, I'm just here to watch the show!"

At the sight of the confusion evident upon her daughter's face, Estrella laughed once again. "Only joking, babycakes. Yes, I'm your stylist."

Annie remained silent for a moment.

The three members of her prep team had insisted that she be absolutely perfect for when the stylist came in to dress her so that they would make a good impression on her. Annie had assumed that her stylist would just be tough to please and that they, the prep team, wanted to make a good impression. But she had been wrong. They wanted her, Annastasia Marie Karma, to make a good impression on her mother when united with her once more.

Estrella was being a little too casual about the whole situation for Annie's liking. She chirped and bounded about in search of the outfit she and the other stylists of District Two had together decided on. This year her mother would have to consult with twelve other stylists in order to prepare the outfits for the chariots for all of this year's tributes so that they would go together.

Whilst the spiky-haired woman (Annie in her whole life did not remember her ever mentioning anything about a desire to spike her hair like that, but she did not ask questions) fitted Annie's head for a some sort of headpiece, her daughter squirmed uncomfortably.

She was still surprised about seeing her mother here, and when she first saw her standing there, ready to design an outfit for Annie, she had thought that maybe the two would have a heart to heart of sorts and they could clear things up.

Instead, Estrella, smiled casually at her as if they had just met for the first time. The only mentions of her home life were when the older of the two worked into a conversation that she was beyond excitement to see Dani and Carter soon as well and she put in that they were both assigned brilliant stylists, so Annie should not worry about that.

But Annie was not in the mood to perform the dance that Estrella was doing around the subject; she looked directly into her mother's eyes and said.

"Why did you leave?"

Estrella pursed her lips for a moment and reach up to play with a strand of short hair. She ran a hand through Annie's dark tresses. The action reminded Annie of how Caden used to run his hand through all of the girls' hair to calm them down when they were upset about Dad's death.

The woman let out the breath she had been holding in ever since Annie posed the question and them she smiled at Annie.

"Sometimes you have to take a once in a lifetime opportunity when it's presented to you. Just like you and Dani and Carter did when given the opportunity to compete in this lovely tournament we call the Hunger Games. Oh, you are just going to love it! My tribute last year was so excited he almost wet himself the night before the Games."

None of us Volunteered because we thought it was a "wonderful opportunity" she thought, but only the snort which came after was audible.

"Now, Annastasia Marie. Hold still. You're reminding me of when my dear Emily Linda and Evan Daniel were babies and I had to rock them for hours to get them to stop squirming before bed."

Annie blushed.

"Yes, that's right, my dear. Be a good girl there and don't move so I can fit you."

Estrella beamed. "You are going to absolutely adore this dress, Annie! Now turn around. I'm going to do your make up first."

"Will I adore it as much as I adored it when you left me and Caden to raise five kids?"

But Estrella did not hear Annie's mutter and carried on with the painting of her face, again, giving the impression that they had just met for the first time.

"What are our outfits this year?" Annie asked, now genuinely curious as to what her mother and the other stylists had planned for her and her fellow District Two tributes in these Games.

"You'll just have to wait and see!" Estrella's eyes glittered. "Now close your eyes, Annastastia! Be a good girl! I want it to be a surprise!"

* * *

**Kat Powers, 17, District Two Female**

* * *

All eleven of the tributes from District One looked gorgeous. Even from Kat's position directly behind them in the District Two chariot, she could tell that the stylists from One were going to bring in a lot of sponsors for their tributes.

The three girls - Kat was not sure of their names - were each dressed as a different gemstone; the curly platinum blond head on one of them blending in with her diamond encrusted gown as she shimmered and glowed in the lights positioned all around the chariots. The other two were a ruby and a sapphire, and through they did not quite blend in with their costumes as well as the first girl, they were sure to get some sponsors as well. The boys were positioned surrounding the girls as if to be admiring the three of them from their positions, sprawled across luxurious looking couches.

One of the boys - a rather good-looking one at that - was wearing sunglasses, and Kat recognized them vaguely from when she and her district partners had watched the replays of the District One reaping. Maybe he never took them off.

Anyway, Sunglasses was grinning a mouth full of pearly whites as he flirted with Diamond Girl.

Kat sighed and fidgeted in the long toga that was her costume. The tributes from Two were dressed as gods and goddesses of the ancient Greeks. Kat thought she looked pretty, but she had no idea who she was supposed to be. She had never even heard of the "Greeks." All she knew was that the wreath in her hair was awfully itchy.

There was definitely tension in the air. Everyone from One, Two, and Four seemed to be looking around as if deciding on what to do. Generally the Careers might have some sort of interactions during the Chariot Rides, whilst the other alliances would for the most part not form until the Training. This year, however, there would be no Career alliance. There would be no pre-formed alliances at all. The Capitol was giving them their alliances and telling them that they would not have to kill them in order to survive. That was a good thing in Kat's opinion, but it did not change the fact that sitting there with twelve other teenagers inside a chariot in utter silence while they all stared each other down (particularly in the case of Alissi and Artemis) was not the most comfortable thing in the world.

Kat noticed that one of her district partners looked especially uneasy. She tapped Amber on the shoulder and the other girl turned around.

"I'm busy," she said harshly.

"Do you know her?" Kat had been meaning to pose the question ever since witnessing the District Five reaping, but she had not been able to work in into a conversation until now. That was probably because she and Amber had not had a conversation until now. They knew each other from home, but they had never been friends. Or enemies for that matter. Always neutral. Mere acquaintances. But Kat knew that Amber was just as confused as she, Kat, was about the name "Ember Fox" being called and she wanted to know if Amber had figured out who this girl was.

"Do I know who?"

Kat rolled her eyes. "Ember of course. Ember Fox."

"Oh."

"Well?"

"I- I'm not sure. She looks like me."

"Exactly like you."

Amber nodded. "It's weird. I've never met anyone from District Five before. This other girl doesn't seem to be too interested in me like I am in her."

Kat nudged the girl's dark shoulder. "Well, there's only one way to find out who she really is, huh?"

Amber ignored the question. "Aren't you supposed to be the quiet one? The one who just sits around listening to that thing of yours as old as our costumes?"

Kat blushed, but then she shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess I sort of give that impression don't I? Well yeah, I'm quiet. I prefer music to . . ."

"To friends?"

Kat felt her cheeks filling with color once more.

"Yeah, to friends."

Amber cocked her head to the side, then shrugged. "Whatever. Anyway, if you think I'm going to go over there to that strange Ember girl and say hi then you're ridiculous, Kat."

"I'll come with you if you want," Kat offered.

"We're not even friends. Are you always this pushy?"

Kat shook her head. "I'm quiet remember? The kind of girl who keeps her head down and her mouth shut."

"It doesn't seem like that to me right now," Amber snapped.

"What's the big deal, Amber?!" Kat was not seeing the problem with going over to meet that other girl. It wasn't really so terrible was it?

"The big deal, Kat Powers, is that I'm adopted, okay?!"

"So?"

"What do you mean, so?!"

"I mean, so what?"

"I have a sister, Kat."

"A sister?"

"A twin."

"A twin?!"

"Yes," Kat saw Amber brush at her eyes and she realized with a pang of sympathy that Amber had been crying. Amber was a teary girl. Kat had never seen her cry in her life, except maybe fake crying to her parents to get them to buy her something.

"She doesn't know that I exist as far as I know, but Mom told me about her and -" Amber choked on a sob, then quickly wiped her teary eyes once more when she realized that Carter and Danielle Karma were watching her intently and she went back to her usual prissy voice. "And I never believed Mom that she existed. I thought she made it up for some reason. But what if- what if-" hiccup - "what if that's her and you're going to drag me along to meet her just so I can watch her die in a week or so?"

* * *

**Amber Fox, 17, District Two Female**

* * *

Amber had never mentioned any of this to anyone, and she had no clue how it wound up coming out in a tumble like this to Kat Powers who had always just been little more than a random girl from her district.

"Then I guess you'll just have to hope that she's not your sister," Kat said, in a blatant attempt to lighten the mood. Amber did not appreciate the gesture and she glared at the other girl.

Before Amber could say anything else, however, Kat was climbing out of the chariot and pulling Amber along with her. Amber had no choice but to follow along on silence.

She had calmed down a bit by the time they reached District Five's chariot, but to be honest, she was furious with Kat. Amber did not like change. She was not looking for change. And she didn't appreciate Kat jumping on the opportunity to encourage another twist into her life. She had not even grown up like all of the other children in her district. She was given up for adoption and in her opinion, that was enough of a change. But no, then she had to go and be reaped and now here she was; pretty sure that she had a twin sister who had been given the same death sentence that she herself had and Ember did not even know about Amber.

When Kat got Ember's attention, she immediately blushed and faded behind Amber, leaving Amber and Ember face to face. Gee, thanks, Kat. Note the sarcasm.

When Ember saw Amber's face her jaw dropped. "Uh, hi . . ." she seemed a bit bewildered at the remarkable resemblance Amber bore to her at first, but then she smiled brightly. "Hi there. I'm Ember."

"Amber," said Amber, and shook Ember's extended hand.

"Nice to meet you," said Ember lightly, though she was still looking at Amber as though she had green skin. (Even in the Capitol, Amber could not get used to the odd skin colors. Perhaps some of the children who teased her for being black had that same mentality.)

"You too," said Amber after a tense pause.

"And what's your name?"

Amber had almost forgotten that Kat was still there, standing right behind her until she spluttered out her own name.

"Ember Fox? Is that you?"

Amber already knew the answer to that question, but she felt the need to ask it anyway.

Ember nodded. "I think I'm the only Ember here. It's not a very common name in District Five either. You can probably tell that that's where I'm from . . . y'know . . ." she waved her arms around at the District Five chariot and Amber nodded her head.

The chariot was surrounded by some sort of power plant with puffs of smoke emitting from all sides. The tributes themselves were in plain white outfits, but every so often a spark would go off on a couple of them. Amber thought the whole thing was very well done. Not incredibly extravagant like the District One chariot, where Amber thought she saw some of the male tributes hovering over to fan and feed grapes to the girls, but still, something that would make a good enough impression. The chariot itself would at least, if not the tributes.

"Power. That's our industry," Ember explained even though, of course, Amber already knew that.

The word, so close to her surname seemed to draw Kat back to her senses. "I- I think I'll be going. I'll leave you two here."

It was ironic: Kat was the one who had dragged Amber over here in the first place, and now she was the one who had barely spoken two words to Ember.

Amber could not push it off any longer. She did not want to scare Ember though or make her think she was strange coming over and asking her if she was her twin. Besides, Ember didn't even know she had a sister as far as Amber knew.

"Were you adopted?" she asked. Even if Ember said no, there was still a chance that Ember was, indeed, her sister, just that Ember lived with her birth parents and they had only given Amber up.

But Ember nodded. "How did you know?"

"Me too," said Amber, ignoring the question.

Then she cleared her throat. This was going to get very awkward, very fast but she just had to say it. The Chariot Rides were about to start and it was now or never.

"I- Ember, do you think it's possible that you have a sister? From your birth parents I mean?"

Amber's throat felt hot and dry and she could not look at Ember.

"Well, I never thought so, but . . . I suppose it could be possible. Why?"

But Ember clearly already knew why.

"Because if you think it's possible that you have a sister . . . I think that sister could be me."

Ember gulped. "Well, I- you- you and I look identical - that's for sure. Amber Fox? Are you sure that's your name?"

"Of course I'm sure!" said Amber.

There was a moment of silence. Then, all at once, both girls burst into laughter. They stared at one another for a few minutes.

"I don't think you're lying, Amber . . . it's just-"

"Just that you never thought you had a sister?"

"I feel like I would have known somehow."

"My Mom - adoptive Mom that is - told me that I had a sister, but I never believed her until now. I always thought that she was joking or just making it up for whatever reason, but - but Ember, I think she was right."

Ember considered for a moment. "I've always wanted a sister," she said quietly.

"Do you think I might actually be your twin?" asked Amber. "Because I do."

Finally, Ember sighed in defeat. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do."

Their embrace was awkward at first, but Ember's arms were warm and finally, for the first time in her life, though she had thought this change would be the worst thing she could ask for, she made a mental note to thank Kat because meeting Ember would lead to a better time in what might be the last few weeks of her life - she could sense it.

* * *

**Caspian Orman, 15, District Four Male**

* * *

Caspian was not a fan of attention. He was by no means looking forward to having thousands of people witness his bare chest right there on the chariot in the midst of all of the other District Four tributes who were dressed as mer-people.

District One's chariot started the line and, as per expected, the applause they received were deafening. The tributes all smiled and waved; blowing kisses at the crowd. In District One, appealing to the sponsors was probably taught in the tribute academies. Caspian laughed a little to himself at the thought, but the laughter only lasted a second as he realized that District Two was now taking his turn. Only Three, and then it would be his own district's turn.

Caspian's stomach was squirming. Nothing felt right about the situation. He was shirtless and had a mermaid tail attached to his bottom. In his hand was a trident. The bronze tips had been dulled so that the trident was not rendered capable of being used as a weapon whilst the Games and Training had not even begun.

The soft, dainty hand of Cassandra Vale was positioned to be draped over Caspian's shoulder. She, like all of the girls from Four, had a sea-green mermaid's tail who's scales rippled and shined as the chariot rode on.

What troubled Caspian was, the irony of it, that being next to Cassandra did not trouble him in the least bit: not the way her long black hair flowed freely down her bare back or even the fact that her torso was completely void of nothing but the two coconuts placed across her breasts. No, none of it fazed Caspian in the slightest, however hard he tried to convince himself that it did. What did send tingles down his spine was Derek and Wade, both of whom sat behind him, as they joked around with one another and showed off their fit abdomens.

"Caspian, are you okay there?" whispered Cassandra.

"What? Oh yeah. Fine. Just fine."

"We're about to go. You seem distracted."

He realized that he had been ogling at the other two boys and he blushed, sinking into his chair and wishing nothing more than for Cassandra not to have saw him.

"No. Not distracted," he said, but his voice was so quiet he was pretty sure that even from right next to him she did not hear him.

Cassandra turned back around. She had been right, of course; the chariot was taking off. The applause were loud - louder than can be imagined from hearing them only through a TV screen. Louder, even, then can be detected from the chariots before one's own when attention is not quite total.

Many of the tributes stood and waved, smiling at the crowd and drawing their attention easily, even after an initial stumble due to the tail giving their step more of an ungainly appearance at first.

Wade and Derek were both doing the above stated. Caspian was trying to join in on them; he knew that that was what would draw in the sponsors; what would keep him alive. But he simply could not draw his eyes away from the other boys. He was not too keen on the idea of so many people watching him in the first place, and now with all of these distractions . . .

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine. I told you."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, but left him alone.

Caspian noticed that she was not drawing any intentional attention to herself either.

"I'm shy. Like you," she explained, though Caspian was almost positive he had not said anything more out loud.

The Chariot Ride was completed. It was all over. And Caspian had not done anything but fade into the shadows and stare at other half-naked males: nice one, Caspian.

* * *

**Galileo "Lil" Esis, 18, District Five Female**

* * *

Lil noticed the boy from Four's discomfort: poor boy; shy. She herself was by no means ostentatious or showy. She wondered what was going through the minds of the Career tributes in front of her whilst the Capitol citizens cheered and jeered at them.

District Five got enough applause; more than usual anyway. The people must've liked the smoke coming out from all sides: that was a nice touch in her opinion.

Ember was next to her. Ember Fox. Lil had witnessed the whole encounter with that other girl; Amber. A sister? That was unexpected. She wanted to know more about Ember, but did not press the subject with her. She was so curious though. Ever the scientist, Lil was always dying to know more.

These people - the ones clapping as she rode by in her chariot, shrouded in smoke - they had a different lifestyle than she, Galileo, did: not just the fact that they lived a lavish life of luxury rather than the simple life she led back in District Five. But also their mindset; the way they viewed the word and the take they had on life. Lil always had a million things on her mind. They, on the other hand, could focus in on one thing at a time.

Whilst she would have never even thought of killing as entertainment, - killing of children to one another, no less - they had come up with the Hunger Games. She couldn't help but let her scientist sign marvel at the idea. It was horrid, she knew. The Games were an awful thing. But they were creative, and as much as Lil hated the idea of killing or being killed, she admired creativity.

Solo White was still trying to flirt with Dina. The kid was cute, but it was getting old in Lil's opinion; Dina was clearly not interested in twelve-year-olds romantically.

Lil emitted a little laugh. What had she just been thinking about a minute ago? The Capitol. And now her mind had made its way onto Solo and Dina.

Another conversation on the chariot caught her attention: Blakely and Minerva could just not seem to get along. They were continuing their argument which they had started on the train. As District Five's chariot ride drew to a close, it seemed as though the attention of all of Five's tributes had been drawn away from the Capitol people sitting in the audience. Shame, really. If only Five could have stood out just a tad bit more, maybe it could be beneficial to Lil in the arena. Too late now though.

Lil could not hold herself back any longer. He just had to ask.

"Ember, do you really think that that girl was your sister? Your twin?"

Ember seemed taken aback by the question. Evidently, she had thought no one was listening.

"I'm not sure," Ember muttered, after a while. "Could be."

Lil nodded. She gathered that Ember wanted a sister; that she wanted Amber to be her sister. Perhaps it did not even matter whether they were actually blood related. Perhaps they would not even bother to pursue the research (if one or both of them got home that is) regarding whether or not they were related, because it would be so much easier and more fun to just say that they were, indeed, sisters, especially with names like the ones they had and with appearances so identical that even Lil, observant as ever, would not be able to tell them apart if not for the different outfits in which they were dressed according to district.

Lil turned her head back around, eager to see the next chariots coming forth. As she did so, she realized that Districts Six and Seven got a smattering of applause; louder than her own district even. After that, though, they seemed to die down as the turns of the outermost districts arrived.

* * *

**Jesse Tanner, 17, District Eight Male**

* * *

"Come on, Lena. Give them a wave," Jesse encouraged. "No? Not even a smile?"

Jesse knew that Colleen was not outgoing like he was; knew that she was not very comfortable with purposefully drawing attention to herself or being in the spotlight.

But his vow to keep her safe was of vital importance; far more important than Lena's preference of hiding behind a paint canvas. And so he took her hand in his and lifted it up high for everyone to see. He waved her hand back and forth and Lena laughed loudly.

"Jesse!" she said in between giggles, giving him a friendly slap. "Let go!"

"Nope."

But soon they were both laughing and smiling, and the crowd was eating it up. They had almost finished their lap around the room and gone practically the whole time with only a polite dusting of applause, but the people seemed to love Colleen and Jesse's enthusiasm.

Jesse stood up, proud and tall, and winked at the audience, causing one Capitol girl - who seemed to believe that the wink was directed at her specifically - to blush deep red and wave even harder at Jesse.

He dragged Lena up from her seat, and soon she was working the crowd almost as well as he was. It seemed almost east, natural the way she mimicked him. Had he not known her so well, he would think that Lena enjoyed attention and had a way with large crowds of people. But he did know Lena. And he knew that this was not something that came easily to her.

"I'm proud of you, you know," he said into her hair.\

"I'm proud of me too," she whispered.

"Are you having fun?"

"Yes, tons. But there's no way I'm ever going to be able to show my face after this."

Jesse chuckled even though he knew that she was hardly joking. "I wouldn't worry about being embarrassed; the crowd loves you!"

But Colleen did not seem to have heard. The Chariot Ride was ending, and Jesse knew exactly what was on her mind. She was registering the fact that the two of them had basically stolen the show away from Alixa, Fiona, Harmony, Poppy, and Bree and she automatically blushed and returned to her original position.

Colleen Reyna did not steal the show from anyone, Jesse knew. It had been only tentatively that she had accepted the fact that all eyes were on her even once he forced her to wave to the crowd. But now that she realized she was not only in the limelight, but was stealing it from others, there was little hope for Jesse of ever getting her up like that again.

Alixa seemed happy to take the place of Lena and Jesse once the crowd's attention was brought away from them and onto her, but the applause had faded into what they normally were for District Eight; only a smattering of claps and cheering out of courtest.

"You did good, Lena. You'll get sponsors," Jesse laughed.

"Not as much as you," she muttered, still apparently abashed and trying to make herself sink away.

_If that's the case, then you'll be getting them anyway, Lena. If we can't both win then I'm going to do everything and anything in my power to keep you alive; even if we're on different teams._

_And you don't even need to know about this, Lena Reyna._

"Huh?"

"What? I didn't say anything." He had not realized that he had been muttering out loud.

"Okay, Jesse," Lena looked at him intently for a moment. "Whatever you say."

And with that, the Train Ride of District Eight in the 1000th annual Hunger Games concluded.

* * *

**Luke Torain, 14, District Twelve Male**

* * *

Bravery was a tricky thing. An odd one. Luke had tried, at the reaping, to seem brave; unafraid; fearless and tearless. Now, though, as he sat in the chariot along with Imogen, Olistene, Thina, and Thistle, bravery did not seem possible. It had finally hit him. It came crashing down upon his small frame and his olive skin like the mines he always feared would collapse upon their workers when his father was inside.

The time seemed to stretch on as each chariot made its rounds. Ten. Eleven. Finally, finally, it was Twelve's turn to come into direct view of the Capitol. Finally, finally, the Chariot Rides were about to be over and done with.

Thina was lost in her own thoughts and Olistene seemed to be mad at the crowd for some reason - or maybe at his district partners; Luke was not sure. Imogen had her black hair cascading downward as she held her ground.

The costumes were a stretch, a huge one, and Luke was scared that some District One tribute might beat him up for the stylists from Twelve having a similar idea to the ones from One. It was pretty ironic; One and Twelve; Luxury and Poverty; similar costumes.

Luke and the others were dressed as diamonds. Diamonds came from coal, it was true, but Luke doubted that most people from Twelve had even ever seen a diamond in person. The costumes were nice, at least. The tributes from Twelve did not pull them off quite so glamorously as the elaborate scene created on One's chariot, but at least the people of the Capitol seemed pleased with the outfits.

They were clearly easily distracted from the outfits of natural vegetables and farmers of District Eleven which came before Luke and the others. Still, even the shine brought from the diamond suits did not rake in the amount of cheers which the upper districts got. They were even far off from District Eight, which got a hearty round of applause towards the end, despite the trouble they had at first with keeping the Capitol's attention.

But it was something. Some small hope to cling to. The bravery was almost all gone, but at least it had left in its place room which hope was now planning on occupying.

Hope was a hard thing to cling to. Sometimes it chose to cease to exist and leave the poor humans all alone. But when it did grace the human species with its presence, it was a driving force. And that force was what Luke was going to draw on to do whatever he had to his mother and father and Ember and Marco.

If only hope alone was enough to bring him home.

Luke hated being lied to. Being lied to by himself was no exception. And he was no idiot. He knew that one could not simply wish himself out of the Hunger Games. He knew that no amount of wishing unaided by effort and skill and plain, dumb luck would get him back home safe to the warm confines of District Twelve.

But for that moment, it was all he had. So it was not enough, no, but it was something. And Luke Torain would take something over nothing any day.

* * *

**Vicette Echo, President of Panem**

* * *

The Chariot Rides were over. These Games were off to a great start and President Echo could tell that her dutiful subjects here in the Capitol are pleased with this year's Quell. It was certainly going to be a most glorious year. The fight at the Cornucopia this year would be no silly little Bloodbath; more like enough blood to rain down on the tributes for their entire journey through the Capitol; piercing both their bodies and souls if Vicette was lucky.

"Welcome, welcome all of our wonderful tributes to the one-thousandth annual Hunger Games!" Vicette gave the camera a smile. She could not ruin her image in the Capitol. She knew they loved her and was rather glad for it. She would give Evander hell later to make sure he came through with all he had promised and made this truly the greatest year yet, but for the rest of the Capitol she thought it more prudent to appear to genuinely care for them as individuals, rather than just her supporters as a whole. It was amusing as well.

She continued her speech, eager to show of her new snowy hair to everyone. "This is going to be a good year for the Games, so stick around." She winked at the audience. "And I'd be keeping my eye on some of our tributes this year; it seems as though it'll be a nice crew to work with. Keep your eyes and ears peeled, ladies and gentlemen, because we have more fun coming the way of not only the tributes, who, of course, will be having the time of their lives in the Capitol now, but also you all. I'd keep my eyes on my television this year. My team of Gamemakers have a lot in store."

She gave the camera another wink, and then that was that. Short and sweet. She did not say too much, but there was a clear message in there for Evander and his team of Gamemakers: make this year a good one. Or else. Vicette did not even have to finish the threat: Evander knew what happened to all of the other past Gamemakers Vicette wasn't happy with. They did not simply die of old age, you see.

* * *

**Evander Florius, Head Gamemaker**

* * *

The raw Vodka ran down Evander's throat and he sighed. He and President Echo kept up the charade that they were on good terms whenever there were others around; be it a fellow Gamemaker, other Capitol citizens, or even the camera man when one or both of them had just finished or was about to begin being filmed. But there was hardly a point in keeping up the charade. Everyone knew what the woman stood for and everyone knew that if Evander made one small mistake, there would be consequences. And everyone knew what those consequences were.

The president was starting her speech now that the chariot rides were completed. It was just Evander and Sparta at the moment as none of the other Gamemakers had arrived yet.

"Welcome, welcome all of our wonderful tributes to the one-thousandth annual Hunger Games!" Echo started. She was even cheerier to them than she was to him in public, Evander thought with a smirk. "This is going to be a good year for the Games, so stick around." She winked at the audience. "And I'd be keeping my eye on some of our tributes this year; it seems as though it'll be a nice crew to work with." That was all the tributes were to her. One hundred little toys to play with; tools to build up her appeal among the others in the Capitol. Not children. Not teenagers. Not human beings. But her own personal little tools here for her own pleasure and her own pleasure alone. And that was all they ever would be. "Keep your eyes and ears peeled ladies and gentlemen, because we have more fun coming the way of not only the tributes, who, of course, will be having the time of their lives in the Capitol now, but also all of you. I'd keep my eyes on my television this year. My team of Gamemakers have a lot in store."

"Do we?" asked Sparta right after the president finished her speech and began waving at the cheering Capitol citizens.

Evander gulped. I hope so. But aloud he answered Sparta in the affirmative. Better his best friend think that they had it all figured out then have him worry for Evander's life and possibly Sparta's own as well.

"Where's everyone else anyway?" asked Sparta.

"Boatload of questions you got there, eh McCathy?" said Evander, but he smiled. Sparta was his second in command but he had a whole team of Gamemakers working with him. Sparta McCathy, Tigress Spear, Holton Hunt, and Hiyanne Tweezle had been the main ones working with Evander over his past four years as Gamemaker, and this year they were bringing forth another one: her name was Lilithianna Timberwolf and she had never stood out much among the Gamemakers. Until now, that is. Last year, after her positively beautiful mutt design which took out four tributes directly and forced another two together who wound up killing each other whilst not knowing what to do, Echo had demanded she be promoted to work directly with Evander, Sparta, and the others and be involved in all of the planning. Lilithianna was only nineteen or twenty, Evander thought but, as per usual, he obeyed the president. It was not wise to disobey the president.

"Sorry," said Sparta with a smirk and then he was quiet.

Evander took another drink, not bothering to offer some Vodka to Sparta. He was not an alcoholic, no. He could stop anytime he wanted to. But he didn't want to. And Sparta and the others had stopped trying to get him to. He knew his limit and he always stopped before he got drunk, so what was the point in laying off of the drinking entirely? Besides, he needed it. It was the way he dealt with Vicette Echo breathing down his spine; able to take his job and kill him just as brutally as he was about to do to almost one hundred teenagers.

**A/N: Woo! So how's that for a fast update everyone? I thoroughly enjoyed like, every minute of writing this chapter. It was really fun to write! Notice how in this chapter it was basically just a bunch of pretty random POVs? Well, I think that's going to be how the story will continue from now on. I hope you guys don't mind that I used the president and Head Gamemaker for the last two POVs but I just really wanted to get into their characters a tiny bit more. I don't want to just abandon them after I created them, you know? Anyway, sorry if you didn't like that.**

**I'd love for you guys to comment on the various POVs we had here! And, of course, how was my writing? Thank you all so so much, especially to all of my lovely faithful reviewers :) Thanks for reading this and please let me know what you thought of my writing as well as the different POVs :D**


	10. Training Day 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games!**

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter! I really appreciate it! Here's the next chapter :) Please, I would really appreciate it if you all left me what you thought of it in a review!**

**And, just so you guys know in advance: I'm really truly sorry, but there's no way that with so so many tributes I'll be able to make the number of POVs each tribute gets during the pre-game stuff even. Hopefully, when we get into the arena things will be a little bit more even :) Until then, bear with me please, if you think that your tribute is not getting so much attention.**

* * *

**Valencia Reese, 17, District Four Female**

* * *

The smell of oranges had always reminded Valencia of death. At least since . . . that day. All she could think of was the burly Peacekeeper assigned to keep her from making any trouble at Tanya's funeral shoving orange after orange into her mouth to retain the silence as speeches were made by people who had met Tanya maybe once or twice in their lives about what an amazing person she was and how they would all miss her.

They were all lying. They wouldn't miss her. Not in the slightest. They hadn't even known her. Only Valencia truly knew who Tanya was as a person; as a friend. But they all pretended like they understood; like they were going through the exact same thing that she, Valencia, was in terms of missing Tanya.

She wrinkled her nose as the wretched smell wafted back to her. To some, oranges might have a pleasant fragrance reminding them of tropical and balmy weather that only comes in Districts like Four. To Valencia, it was practically the same as the smell of corpses.

She realized that she was the last one down and out of the comfort of her lavish new bedroom for breakfast. Twenty-six people were sitting at a round table, with an empty seat between Leah and Derek that Valencia assumed was intended for herself. She scoffed as she saw the resemblance between some of her fellow tributes and the mentors. Of course most of them were related to Victors.

"How'd you sleep?" asked Leah affably.

"All right," Valencia growled in response, in an attempt to hint to the girl that she was not in the mood for idle chitchat, even though she knew that Leah was just trying to by nice.

Leah did not say anything more for which Valencia was grateful.

"Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," laughed Derek from Valencia's other side. You're almost as grouchy as my dad."

Valencia rolled her eyes and did not respond.

"No, seriously," Derek continued. "He's so bad that he was the one Victor that they selected not to be a mentor. Y'know, cause Four had fourteen living Victors, but only thirteen tributes, so . . . well, I guess it had to be someone that they chose to leave out, right?"

Valencia still did not answer.

When it was determined that her neighbors were going to give her some peace and quiet, Valencia finally laid her eyes on the elaborate buffet set out before her. There were all sorts of fruits and pastries and beverages that Valencia did not know the name of and a wide array of fluffy white slices of bread and other things even coming from District Four she had not ever seen in her life. She wondered vaguely how in shock tributes from the outer districts might be. For a fleeting second she worried that they not eat too much as it might cause them stomach pains and whatnot. Then it occurred to her that she should be worrying about her own safety and sanity, not that of some people she'd never even met.

Her reasoning for Volunteering had practically been suicidal, though. That would be pretty hypocritical of her (even if no one else knew her true reason for Volunteering) to just abandon all thoughts that went through her brain during her decision and do anything in her power to keep herself and only herself alive.

And Valencia hated hypocrites.

"Okay then, all of you fab children!" Agatha rose and clapped her hands enthusiastically. "It's almost time for your real adventure to begin! Here in the Capitol, we have even greater fashions then I've seen all of you in. Ooh, by the way! You totally rocked the Chariot Ride outfits! I was sure that a group like you would've been able to pull them off like that! Anyway, let's not get sidetracked here -" she shook her finger at all of them, as if scolding them for something they had all done wrong, but then she laughed. "Today is the first day of your training! Get excited for that all of you! Oh, I'm just so jealous! All of you are getting to see the amazing Capitol for the first time. I'm already used to it." She sighed dramatically, as if she had gone through the worst trauma this world has to offer. "Don't get me wrong though, sweethearts, I'm happy for you - really, I am!"

Madeline Kent coughed loudly, clearly irritated by Agatha taking so long to get her point across.

Agatha made no remark to Madeline, but she seemed to get the message, because she carried on more quickly then.

"So, you are all going to have three perfectly wonderfully amazing days of training, starting with today! Then after that, you're going to have your private training sessions where you'll have the chance to impress some Gamemakers with your charming skills I know you all posses!" she beamed at them. "I know you'll all make me and your lovely mentors proud. So, for the totally great Quarter Quell this year, as you know, you'll be divided up into teams before you enter the arena - you all already know this of course. What you don't know yet though," she smiled like she was about to deliver to them the greatest piece of news they would ever receive in their lives, "is that you won't be getting actual numbers for your training scores! You'll just be assigned your ranks instead! Yep, I know, shocking right?"

Valencia did not exactly see how this was such breathtakingly shocking news, but Agatha apparently thought it was a nice piece of gossip. Apparently, some of the other tributes were angry about this and cried out or clenched their fists, clearly having hoped for a high training scored to gain sponsors for themselves in the arena.

For once, Valencia held her tongue from making some rude remark to the poor woman.

Agatha did not seem to mind the reaction of the crowd, instead, she continued. "So, then you'll be given your ranks, but you'll have to wait just a smidge longer for you team assignments. There'll be your interviews, then three days where you can meet with your team to plan out strategies for the Games and get to know each other, and then that'll be it. Into the arena we'll go!"

We'll go?

Agatha had to take a short break as she caught her breath after all of that which she said in little over a minute ("I was just so excited to get it all out to you!")

After Agatha had gained back all of her energy, she popped up once again. "Whoops! If we don't hurry up, children, we'll be late for your very first day of training! We wouldn't want that, now would we? Come on, off you go."

The tributes filed out of the room and into the elevator which would take them down to the Training Center.

The first day of training had begun.

* * *

**Adonis Edele, 16, District Seven Male**

* * *

The Training Center was nothing like Adonis could ever imagine. He zoned out the head trainer, Glara, almost immediately as she started explaining what we would be doing over the next three days. He already knew what they were permitted and supposed to do, and he was, stubbornly, more focused on searching the Center for a mirror to check on the status of his long platinum blond hair than listen to whatever Glara had to say. Alvara ruffled his hair this morning and called him her "wittle brothah" which was the cause of its current mussed up state.

When Glara dismissed them to go around to whichever stations their hearts desired, Alvara caught Adonis' arm and she wheeled him around.

"Let's stay together, Adonis."

Adonis nodded.

"No doubt you're going to need protection from some of these Careers already," he heard her mutter.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," sighed Alvara.

Adonis knew what his sister was referring to. He was used to the bullies, already. They were quite plentiful back in District Seven. Adonis did not care what any of them said or thought of him though. And out of his experience as a victim at least he had gained speed and skill at hiding which could very well be his only two advantages in the arena.

"Well are you just going to stand there, little miss?"

The words startled Adonis, and he looked around to find that, sure enough, his daydreaming had caused him to lag slightly behind Alvara, who, like Adonis, only noticed the comment belonging to the boy (from One?).

The voice was brusque and low, loud enough to fill up the Training Center.

Adonis turned around to find a boy that easily tower over Alvara's 6'0". Adonis was angry now: He pursed his lips into a tight knot and clenched his fists tightly to either side of his torso.

"I'm a male, in case you have not noticed, and I would appreciate it if you did not, from now on, refer to me as 'little miss'"

The giant-boy smirked. "Alright fine, girly-boy . . . Gay-boy. Whatever you are . . ."

Adonis was angered at this comment: He was not gay. He was bisexual and there was nothing wrong with that. (Nor was there anything wrong with homosexuality.) And if this behemoth over here thought he could just stroll over here and call Adonis whatever he pleased, then he was in for a rude awakening.

Giant-boy drew his hand back which had now arranged itself in the shape of a fist.

"Ah-hem."

Adonis did not think he would ever be so relieved to see Glara's blue-black ponytail bobbing up right towards him. "Were you even listening to any word I said, young man?" She put a hand on her hip. "No fighting before the Games start."

"They weren't fighting," another, high-pitched voice said. It reminded Adonis of a rat's squeak. She resembled the giant-boy greatly (same fair skin, same honey-blond hair, same blue-gray eyes that were looking at Adonis like he was a nice, home-cooked meal to be torn into and ripped apart until their appetites were more than satisfied) and Adonis wondered if they could be siblings. "I just sent Bryce here over to make friends with these people. Nothing wrong with making friends before the Games start is there?"

Glara shrugged and left them all be. Thanks Glara, Adonis snorted. Of course the kids from one are automatically telling the truth, he thought sarcastically, but was still quite grateful to the woman for saving him in the first place and he offered her a grateful smile.

"Bryce." Giant-boy stuck a hand out to Adonis which he took tentatively.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Glara was still eyeing them all carefully.

Bryce crushed Adonis' dainty little fingers in his own enormously fat ones and Adonis winced.

"Tessa," the girl who Adonis had now determined to be Bryce's sister introduced herself, but she did not offer Adonis a hand to shake.

"I'm Adonis," he said, with as much politeness as he could muster. _Just kill 'em with kindness for now, Adonis,_ he told himself._ You have no reason to run or hide and nothing else to use against them, so for now, just use the one thing you actually have. Just kill 'em with kindness_. "And that's my older sister, over there," Adonis pointed to her. "Her name's Alvara."

And with nothing more than a gentle wave in there direction, Adonis took off toward the Archery station where Alvara was about to try her hand at a wooden bow and a matching sheath of arrows.

He strolled up to her casually, then blushed at the quizzical look on her face.

"You saw what happened back there?"

She clucked her tongue. "I think all ninety-seven of us did. That boy is huge. Sticks up like a lighthouse. Anyway, sorry I didn't come try and save you; you seemed to be handling the situation on your own for once in your life."

Adonis did not respond to that, but picked up another bow slightly smaller than Alvara's. Neither of them was having much success.

The trainer tried to guide Alvara's hands, but she pulled away from him grudgingly.

"We've got it under control, here, thank you," she said shortly.

The trainer looked at Adonis in question and he nodded, even though he was not entirely sure that the two of them had the bows and arrows entirely under control.

* * *

**Julius Medicus, 17, District Two Male**

* * *

Julius had originally pictured himself shining bright during training; showing off his skills with weaponry; meeting all sorts of people who would, no doubt, become a new crowd of his adoring fans. Unfortunately for him, he had just received a rude awakening: No one from his district seemed particularly fond of him, and, despite all of his efforts to befriend some other cool-looking Careers, it was to no avail.

So there he sat, helpless on a wooden bench, not really in the mood to go over to one of the stations. They were all inhabited by the people he had tried and failed to make friends with. It would just be embarrassing.

His green eyes glazed over the room. At least he could use this vantage point where he would not be seen by many to get a good look at the competition. It wasn't like he had to plan out alliances or anything (those were being handed out on a silver platter) but he would be up against ninety percent of these people and allied to the other ten, so an evaluation of them all would do him some good.

His eyes fell upon a little red-haired girl from Three. She was laughing with a few other tributes from her district as they all practiced their spear-throwing skills and one of her friends failed miserably.

From his own district there were a lot of family members as tributes: The Forenes, the Karmas, the Masons . . . and he was pretty sure that Amber Fox had just discovered that she had a twin sister. He wondered whether the Capitol would keep them together or split them apart. It seemed like the kind of thing they would do; put them on separate teams just for the fun of it.

Julius' musings were interrupted by the appearance of a little girl. She looked no more than ten or eleven, but Julius assumed she must be twelve as that was the youngest age of tributes.

Her bright blond hair was braided down her back and there was a pixie-like mannerism to her.

"I'm Blue," the girl said enthusiastically.

"Julius," he replied after a long pause.

He did not shake her outstretched hand and Blue looked slightly hurt at this, but got over it quickly.

"So are you missing your friends too, Julius?" she asked chirpily.

"How-"

"Oh I can just tell. And you were thinking about the competition; you know, the other tributes and such . . ."

Blue began to say more but Julius cut her off, still confused by her presence. "Uh, listen, kid. I have nothing really against you in particular, but-"

"But what?"

"I was getting to that, wasn't I?" he grumbled angrily, frustrated with her for not letting him get one single damn sentence in. "Anyway, like I said: nothing personal, but you kind of just popped up out of nowhere, and I'm not really in the mood for company right now."

Blue folded her arms across her chest.

She huffed. "Well sorry, you just seemed like a sociable person over here." She sighed dramatically. "Guess I'll just go try and fail at wielding a sword."

"You do that," muttered Julius.

Blue seemed pretty unfazed by his less than hospitable reception of her; she skipped off happily and, as she said, to the station where a trainer would attempt to help the kid with sword fight.

Julius snorted. Good luck, Blue. You'll need it.

He himself, however, decided that sitting around was not a very good use of his training days.

Maybe at least the trainers would love him as much as his large group of friends did back home. Wait, was it considered uncool to have your trainers in the Capitol right before you're about to be thrown into a deadly competition be you're only friends during (or before, to be more accurate) said deadly competition? . . .

* * *

**Gracen Heme, 12, District 10 Male**

* * *

"Just my father and my little sister, Grace. She's ten," Gracen exclaimed timidly to the new girl he had just met, when she immediately asked about her family. She was a lot older than him; probably around sixteen or seventeen, but she did not seem to mind talking to a little kid like him in the slightest. She had been nothing but bright and cheerful as she approached him, little wiry Gracen.

Claire. That was her name.

"Oh, how sweet," Claire smiled.

She did not seem even remotely interested in trying to perfect any of her skills in weaponry or meeting any older tributes to try and befriend them - though, of course, alliances were not to be made - before the arena. No, she was only focused on Gracen for the time being.

But Gracen was not a huge fan of attention, especially from an older girl like Claire who was pretty and intimidating.

She seemed to sense that what he was feeling, because she smiled brightly at him.

"So what do you like to do back home in Ten, Gracen?" Claire asked, as if Gracen's home life was the most interesting thing she had ever asked about in her life.

He liked that. It was comforting to know that he didn't have to try and impress her, which would just make him squirm and feel awkward and unsure of what to do or say.

"Well, I like sports. And books. And my best friend Ariel - she's here too. She's amazing. She loves animals and her family's great and . . ." he trailed off when he realized that his cheeks were filling with color

"Ariel. That's a pretty name," said Claire kindly.

Gracen blushed once again. "I hope she's on my team."

Claire gave him a sympathetic nod.

"I hope you're on my team too, Claire," he muttered so quietly that he was not even sure she heard him from the close proximity between the two.

"Gracen! Gracen! I've been looking everywhere for you!" panted a voice quite familiar to Gracen's ears.

Gracen smiled at how unbelievably natural it was to be seeing Ariel's choppy black hair flying all around her face as she ran up to him.

She came to a halt when she realized that Gracen was not alone. "H- Hi," she stuttered after a moment's pause.

"Are you Ariel?"

Ariel nodded.

"I'm Claire. It's nice to meet you."

"Is she your new friend?" Ariel questioned Gracen.

"She's really nice," answered Gracen. "She liked kids. Like us, I mean."

Claire beamed and Ariel did as well.

"I'm from District Three," said Claire. "Not that it really makes a difference, but, just in case you were wondering . . . Gracen tells me that you're 'amazing.'" Claire grinned.

Gracen blushed scarlet, but Ariel beamed even brighter. "Really, is that true, Gracen?"

Both girls burst into laughter, though Gracen did not really see what was so funny about the situation.

"He's a cutie, isn't he?" Claire winked at Ariel. Now both young children were blushing profusely, but they were smiling as well. Gracen was glad for the friendship of Ariel and now - at least he hoped - Claire.

Gracen learned after his mother died of Pneumonia that sometimes, when life seemed like it really sucked, all you really want - all you really need - is a friend. Someone who could be there for you and stick to you even when you don't feel worth being stuck to. Ariel had been his friend after his mother's death. So had Grace, his sister. And Ariel would continue to be his friend through these Games as well - just as he would surely stick by her no matter what. He hoped that Claire could be their friend too. He felt comfortable around her. Despite the age difference, there seemed to be a connection between the three of them. Claire was drawn to him after all. Yes, she liked children, but there were plenty of other young kids in the Games this year.

No, surely, it was not just that. Surely it must be the beginning of a friendship. Because of all people, Gracen knew that friendship was the one thing that can turn a life that seems to be filled with tragedy, into one of bliss.

* * *

**Athena Blue, 12, District Three Female**

* * *

"Clever, you are;" the dark-haired girl gave Athena an approving nod which she, Athena, could tell was not given out very easily. "Surprisingly enough, you're catching on fast. Now, which of these would you say were poisonous,"

Athena thought for a moment. "The red ones?" She had not meant for it to come out like a question.

"Do you lack confidence, little girlie?"

"No, I just-"

"Well that would be a good thing considering that you were right about the berries. I think my time 'mentoring' you here is just about done. I don't usually associate with people like you, you see, but you didn't seem so helpless like that other twelve-year-old I met - Lola, I think her name was - and I thought you might be an independent girl like I am."

"I'd say I am," Athena replied.

"Thought you might impress me. I'm not easy to impress."

She had only just met this girl at the the edible plants station, but, coming from District Eleven, she seemed to know her stuff. She also seemed to think that she was a little (or a lot) too good for Athena, but that was alright; she hardly even knew this girl after all and she was grateful for the help no matter how much the other girl had looked down upon her at the very beginning.

"I think you could be a worthy opponent - or teammate, depending - in the arena. Athena, right?"

And now she was even impressed with Athena. See, that's what happens when you don't let a person's initial attitude bother you.

"Yeah, it's Athena. I didn't quite catch you n-"

But the older girl was already turning to go.

Athena was about to turn to the trainer and ask him to quiz her instead when the figure, dark as night, whipped around. "Wisteria. My name is Wisteria."

Athena shrugged and continued with her learning of the edible plants. She was grateful to Wisteria. The older girl had not seemed to keen on helping a young kid like Athena. However, Wisteria herself was giving the impression of knowing more than the trainer in this field (which was true; Athena was a good judge of how knowledgable a person is) which pissed him off and he told her with a scoff to teach the little girl (otherwise known as Athena Blue) about which plants she could eat.

She was rather pleased with herself that Wisteria had called her a fast learner after she caught on about ten minutes earlier. Wisteria did not seem the type to hand out compliments too easily, nor did she seem the type of person who enjoyed branching out and accumulating more friends.

And she had even said that Athena seemed like a worthy ally or opponent in the arena.

Athena left the plant identification station, feeling that her time be better spent elsewhere, now that she had memorized a fair few plants that she could and could not eat and had gotten better at looking for signs of the patterns shown in edible plants and berries verse those of the non-edible ones.

Lost in her thoughts, she nearly knocked over two other little blond girls who should be no older than herself.

"Hi, I'm Blue and this is Lola!" one of them exclaimed, not missing a beat.

"Athena," Athena smiled at them.

"We just met," Blue exclaimed, indicating herself and her companion, Lola. She recognized the name from somewhere, but couldn't quite place where.

She thought for a little while, and stamped her foot in frustration.

"You okay, Athena?" asked Blue jovially, as if they had been friends for years, rather than having just met.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just thinking about something . . ."

And then she remembered. Duh. Not five minutes ago, Wisteria had mentioned to her that she met another twelve-year-old called Lola, whom she referred to as "helpless."

Athena noticed the redness of Lola's face and the puffiness of her eyes. She sighed in sympathy. Poor girl must have been crying.

Lola definitely fit Wisteria's description, and that was not a very common name in Panem; it did not seem like there would be another little girl called Lola in the Games. Must be her.

"Looks like there's a lot of twelve-year-olds this year," commented Blue.

Athena nodded.

"Would you like to come with us?"

"Come where?" Athena was surprised at this offer.

"Well I just thought we might go for a walk, y'know," she dropped her voice to a whisper, now only speaking to Athena, although Athena did not see how this helped much being as Lola was standing in just as close a proximity to Blue as Athena was, and surely could hear everything Blue was saying. "Lola's been crying a lot lately, and she seems to prefer meeting some new kids out age to just doing . . . whatever it is you do in a Training Center."

For a fleeting second, Athena felt like rolling her eyes at Blue's ignorance, (it was called a training center for heaven's sake) but at the innocent beam on Blue's face, she immediately scolded herself for allowing such thoughts to cross her mind.

And at that she thought of Skip, and how he always used to roll his eyes whenever she said something that reflected naivety regarding something new he wanted her to try. She missed her friend terribly. She wondered where he was right now. Was he thinking of her, waiting, hoping for her to come home by some miracle?

"Sure," Athena said to the others, before her brain totally registered what words were coming out of her mouth. She reminded herself not to think of Skip. Not to let him cross her mind. There was no point in being nostalgic. It would not get her anywhere in the arena. She had to live in the present and look towards the future. Hopefully, hopefully she'd be able to see Skip again one day. Unlikely, but she could hope. Yes, hopes to see him again in the future was a much better thing to keep on her brain than how much she missed her best friend. Hopes would get her places. They would push and drive her forward. Nostalgia would just end up with her curling up in a ball and crying in the middle of the arena floor. And then she would be killed.

Athena refocused her attention now, to neither her hopes for the future, nor her longing for the past, but rather back to Blue and Lola who were standing right beside her.

As the three children walked around the center, Lola calmed down a bit more, which made Athena and Blue smile.

Along the way, Athena waved at some new friends she had accumulated from her district; Claire Redfield, the sweet older girl with the pretty red hair who was especially kind to the younger tributes; Pierce Lockwood, the cute musician who was kind of shy but Athena enjoyed his company all the same; Onyx Black, the brave girl who was only thirteen, but Volunteered to save a helpless twelve-year-old nonetheless; Azura, whom she was already close with and adored.

She waved to them all, glad for their friendship, but on the inside, Athena Blue was not waving carelessly.

All of them and all of her other district partners, along with now Blue and Lola and (sort of) Wisteria and countless others that she had the chance to meet over the next three days. Most of them would wind up being her enemies. How would she be able to help out her team, when she didn't want to do any harm to any of these people she had grown to know, or any other tribute, for that matter.

She supposed it was a dilemma that every tribute in every Hunger Games faced. She supposed it was a dilemma that not many tributes in the Hunger Games were ever able to deal with successfully.

But this year, it was different. This year, she was not allowed to choose her own allies. This year, she would be given one team to work with and nine to work against.

Blue continued to chatter amiably to Athena and Lola, and Athena nodded and smiled kindly wherever appropriate, but there was still that nagging worry at the back of her head. There was still that thought there, that Blue could be her enemy. And where would she be if she had some crazy Career for a General who demanded she kill sweet, innocent, little Blue, or anyone else for that matter?

Maybe some of the other tributes would cross that bridge when they came to it, but not Athena.

Athena Blue liked to plan things in advance. Even her fun outings with Skip had some sort of order. Of course, ninety-nine (point nine) percent of the time, the night would go nothing like she planned, but still, it felt good to be safe and have a plan.

She sighed.

Don't think like that, Athena, she told herself. You won't have to kill anyone. It'll all be all right.

"What do you think Athena?"

"Oh, sorry. Could you repeat the question?"

Blue laughed. "Oh, we were only wondering what you think the arena's going to be like this year."

Athena shrugged, trying not to focus on what the arena entailed for Blue and Lola's sake. "I'm not sure. Guess we'll just have to wait and see."

And see they shall. Unfortunately, the waiting part would not be lasting for very much longer, but Athena was not going to remind Blue of that and put a damper on the other girl's seemingly constant cheery mood.

* * *

**Lola Briks, 12, District Six Female**

* * *

To be honest, all Lola felt like doing at the moment was curling up into a ball and bawling until she had no more tears left. Blue and Athena were a non-stop stream of optimism, which was nice in theory, but not when spoken to a girl who had just been destined to her death! Lola had no hope and all three of them knew it. So why were they trying to pretend like everything was going to be okay?

"I think I need a moment," she muttered, interrupting Blue's pitchy blabbering to which Athena was nodding. Lola could not tell whether this was out of genuine interest or just to spare Blue's delicate feelings.

Blue shrugged her shoulders and Lola ran as far from the other two girls as she could get. She wrapped her arms around herself and stood in the corner, shaking silently.

A few days ago, Lola had nothing to worry about. The chances of her name being drawn were slim, and even if she was reaped, there was a girl prepaid to Volunteer for her. (Lola could hardly imagine someone needing money so badly as to risk their life in such a way.) But then the stupid girl had gone and gotten herself killed in a stupid house fire and now, against all odds, here Lola was, sentenced to her death with no escape.

At home, nobody was able to touch her or harm her in any way. She was Lola Briks, daughter of Mital Briks, and she always got her way no matter what. But here it was anyone's game. The odds of her coming out alive were about twenty million times smaller than the odds of her being reaped, which were already extremely slim. This was not her playing field. Maybe if she had been chosen for a beauty pageant or something, she could make it through. But this was a fight to the death. It was about as far from a beauty pageant as she could get.

She could feel the tears stinging her vivid blue eyes and falling down her soft cheeks, but she did not do anything to attempt to stop them.

It was almost a foreign thing to her: She, Lola Briks, was crying in the corner of a room filled with people, and not one of them was approaching her to check on her. No one was trying to comfort her. She was not being fawned over in the fashion that she had grown so accustomed to. Blue and Athena probably could not find her or thought that she wanted to be left alone - which was true - but still, it stung like the salty tears in her eyes that they did not care enough about her to come comfort her, despite this being the opposite of what she had said she wanted.

She melted down to the floor; her knees buckling from under her before the rest of her body followed suit.

"It's just n-not f-f-fair."

She had not meant to speak out loud, but that was just the way it came out. No one heard her anyway.

Or maybe they just weren't bothering with her. To them, she was little more than just another Bloodbath casualty. Maybe she'd make it to the second day if sheer, dumb luck was on her side. Because skill - or lack thereof - was most certainly not going to be getting her anywhere in the arena.

* * *

**Dina Edison, 16, District Five Female**

* * *

Dina twirled a strand of flaming red hair around her finger in frustration, upon her failed attempt, for the umpteenth time to hit the target with the throwing knives she was using in training. She sighed, exasperated. It was useless. She was no Career and she was not doing very well with their strong suits. Dina was not a weaponry kind of girl and she would just have to face it and hope that it didn't hurt her chances in the arena too much.

"Hey there, beautiful." Dina nearly jumped and slashed the scruffy-haired boy now standing behind her with one of the knives. He seemed unfazed by this and he was beaming unabashedly, as if he had not just made her almost kill him. She, on the other hand, was blushing deeply, but did not even get the opportunity to apologize when the boy spoke once again. "Mind if I show you how to work these lovely little creatures known as knives? - that is, they're not like tomatoes to be thrown after a bad performance - they're, well, it's a knives."

"H-how would you know anything about knives?" Well there you go Dina. Real friendly sounding. But honestly, this kid was blatantly not a Career. He appeared to be slightly athletic, but was not a well-built giant like the Careers typically were.

The boy just chuckled in amusement, if possible, he was grinning wider now.

He did not answer her question but reached a hand up to guide Dina's. He drew his her hand back and flung the knife forward with great force so that it only just missed the target. Not perfect, but certainly far better than she could have done on her own.

"Thanks," she smiled.

"Anytime. Name's Lucas James Griffin, by the way. From District Ten." The boy - Lucas - puffed out his chest proudly.

"Dina," she stated simply. "I'm from Five."

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Dina from Five." He leant down and lifted her hand to his lips. She knew he was only joking with her, but she still couldn't help the chill that went through her body at the touch of his lips. And she was pretty sure she liked it. She had not realized until now that a moment earlier she had felt a similar chill run through her body when Lucas guided her own hand in his to help her throw the knife.

"Pleasure's all mine, Mr. Griffin," she said with a curtsey, playing along.

Lucas laughed. She took note of the fact that the grin on his face never parted from his lips throughout the entire conversation.

"Well, Dina from Five, you know I really hope my expert knife throwing skills can help you in the arena. A knife's my best weapon, but I'm more of a wielding a knife type of guy than a throwing knives one."

Dina chuckled. "More expert than I am at least."

Lucas winked at her.

Then, abruptly, she stood up. What was she doing with this boy? She had not meant to give him any words other then a polite thanks. What was she doing, anyway? Did he think she was . . . flirting with him? Was he flirting with her? She hoped not, because he seemed like a nice enough guy and she didn't want him to be unhappy with her, but she was not in this for the romance. All she wanted to do was by some miracle manage to get back to Albert alive rather than dead and in a box. Yet, here she was, with some guy she barely knew, and she had the nerve to think that there were tremors going through her body at his touch. Dina felt sick with herself.

She began walking slowly away from Lucas James Griffin, when suddenly he called out to her. "Wait!"

She turned around hesitantly.

"Can we meet again tomorrow, Dina from Five? Maybe I can show you some of my other expert skills." He was grinning tremendously and she knew he meant it as a joke, but she could not bring herself to laugh along with him.

"I don't know, Lucas James Griffin," she said flatly. "I just don't know."

And with that, she continued on to the archery station, as far away from Lucas as possible and pretended to be interested in whatever the trainer there had to say. She could sense Lucas' eyes on her, but she did not care.

Of course she didn't want him to be hurt, she would never wish that upon someone. But she had to get back to her brother and she was determined to do whatever it took to do so. And she was not going to risk that by getting caught up with some boy.

Who did he think he was anyway, making a move on her like that? They had met, what, five, ten, fifteen minutes ago? - After he so rudely sprung up behind her.

Goodbye, Lucas James Griffin. Please don't try and get in the way of me getting home to my brother any more. It really would inconvenience me to have you popping up all over the place, looking at me with those blue eyes that make me want to know you, and pretending like you know me. Goodbye.

* * *

**Conan Redfeer, 12, District Seven Male**

* * *

"Wow, I just remembered! You're the Volunteer from Eleven, aren't you! I mean, there was also one other Volunteer, she was also young I think, but yeah, I remember you specifically."

"Oh yeah," his new friend, Izzy, replied chirpily. "Yeah. No one messes with my baby bro!"

"You remind me of my sister, Izzy. Her name's Dani. She's like, really protective of me. But she's cool. Well, you're like her in the sense that you're protective of your little brother too. Other than that-"

"I'm more like you!" she exclaimed in excitement. "Finally! Someone who understands the need for nonstop chatter!"

It was true. If not for the difference in district, Izzy Pure could be his long-lost sister.

"Lucky, isn't it, that Owen was chosen this year? Well, not lucky, obviously, because I'm not really too thrilled about being here, but better me than him, y'know? Anyway, I meant that it's lucky that he was reaped this year, because what if it was next year and then Adam - that's my older brother - chickened out and didn't Volunteer for him and I couldn't because I'm a girl, and, well, you know, this is the only year that girls can Volunteer in the place of boys and vice versa . . ."

"If it was next year, he would be thirteen; that's your age now," Conan pointed out.

Izzy shrugged. "Yeah, but he'll always be my baby brother. And, besides, even if we are going to the . . . you know, Hunger Games where most of us -" she waved her arms around the room at all of the tributes bounding about the different stations and conversing with each other - "are going to die, I like to think of at least one good thing that comes out of a situation; keeps people from getting depressed in my humble opinion. And now I can safely say that at least one good thing will have come out of training, because I made a friend."

Conan was confused.

Izzy blushed. "You. Aren't we friends?"

"Me? I'm the one good thing that's going to keep you from getting depressed?" he blushed. "Flattered, Izzy. So does that mean we're friends. I like friends. My best friend back home, his name's Zyrus. Miss the kid terribly, but, like you I'm going to try and find the good thing about this situation - thanks for that tip! Well, I think that'd be you right now, so far. I'm the only young kid from my district, so I don't think any of them really want to be my friend, so, yep! My first real friend here!" He beamed at her. "What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, Zyrus! Zyrus is awesome! I'm sure you'd think so too! It feels as though we spend more time in detention than out of it - don't worry, Izzy, that was only an exaggeration," she giggled. "No, but seriously, he and I pull some great pranks together! And the best part (well, maybe not the best part, but a good part anyway) is the look on my mother's face whenever she's scolding me for getting in trouble again."

By this time, both Conan and Izzy were laughing heartily.

Suddenly, Izzy put her hand up and took on a very serious expression that Conan had not yet seen on her face.

"C'mon, Conan."

Shrugging, he complied (despite his confusion at her drastic change of tone so abruptly) and followed her to the corner of the Training Center, where a little girl, probably his age, sat weeping.

"How long have you been crying here?" Izzy asked sympathetically.

The blond girl shrugged. "A while."

She sniffed and wiped a golden ringlet out of her face.

"I'm Izzy," Izzy smiled at her. "And this is Conan." Conan waved cheerfully.

"Lola," the girl replied.

"Lola, that's a pretty name!" said Conan, before he could help himself. "I've never heard it before; pretty though! Hey, you know, Lola, sometimes people just need to be alone while they're sad, but if you want to hand out with me and Izzy, that'd be totally awesome! Really, it would. I was just telling Izzy about my friend Zyrus. And I wanted to hear about her family too, so . . . well, Lola? Care to join us?"

Lola sniffed once again, then provided them with the briefest flicker of a smile. "Maybe tomorrow or something," she muttered. "I- I'm not really feeling so well. Headache. So, I think I'll just stay here for now . . ."

Conan could tell that this was a lie, but he smiled brightly at her anyway and said. "Okey-dokey, then. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow or the next day. Hoe your head feels better soon."

He and Izzy walked away from Lola cheerily and returned to their previous location for discussion of their home life. Now it was Izzy's turn.

What they did not expect, though, was for a pair of clear blue eyes to pop up behind them, and for the pink lips below them to open and say. "I changed my mind. Would I be able to join you guys for a little bit?"

Conan beamed and clapped Lola on the back. "Wow, that head of yours heals quickly doesn't it?"

Izzy and Conan both burst into laughter and even Lola let out a few giggles, though she blushed timidly.

"I guess it does."

"Maybe that could work to your advantage in the Games," Izzy offered, though Conan was not quite sure how that would give her much of an advantage at all.

Lola smiled and Conan could tell that she had been doubting her chances in the Games.

"I sure hope so," said the golden-haired girl quietly, but not quietly enough for Conan not to hear.

"I hope so too," he said gently. "I hope it helps you."

This girl seemed like she was going to need all the help she could get. But, he knew that Izzy was just being nice. Lola would probably have nothing going for her in the Games. Poor little girl. She was the same age as him, but somehow, it doesn't seem strange for him to think of her as a little girl. Maybe it was all the crying.

* * *

**Colleen "Lena" Reyna, 16, District Eight Female**

* * *

"Well, are you just going to sit there, love, and let me wait around for you to come join me here?"

Colleen jumped at the words spoken. For a moment, when she turned around, she half expected to see Jesse standing behind her, but then she realized that the man who's voice she had heard was thick with a heavy Capitol accent.

It was one of the trainers. The guy manning camouflage station.

"I don't get many takers here for camouflage, you know. Most tributes like to go straight to the weaponry. But sometimes I think it'd be more prudent to play the defense more than the offense. So what do you say, love? Will you make my day and be one of my first costumers of the day for camouflage?"

Lena shrugged and squirmed awkwardly, but she got up from the bench on which she had been seated and let her blond hair fall into her face, almost like a curtain shielding her from the world around her. Jesse had gone for a moment and said he'd be right back. It did not look to Lena like he was planning on coming back anytime soon though.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" asked the kind Capitol man.

"L-L-Lena," she choked.

"Lena? That's a nice name."

"It's short for Colleen," she mumbled, abashed for no reason other than the fact that she was conversing with a total stranger and he kept complimenting her and calling her "love" and "sweetheart." She had never done anything remotely nice for this man in her life; she did not even know him, and the casual way he threw out these words, though she knew it should not bother her so much, made her feel extremely uncomfortable for some reason.

"Colleen, huh? That's a nice name too. Now, Lena, correct me if I'm wrong, but you look like quite the artistic gal to me."

Lena blushed, wishing she could will away the strands of odd color in her hair that stuck out so blatantly amongst the many heads of natural colored hair as well as against her own mostly blond head.

She shrugged.

"Oh she's amazing, my Lena is!" a voice boomed confidently from behind her. "She's just being modest."

Colleen breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Jesse strut up towards her. All of a sudden, all of the discomfort that embedded itself inside her stomach, causing it to clench, faded and she smiled shyly.

"Yep," continued Jesse. "She can work wonders with any sort of paintbrush or marker or . . . whatever people use to make artwork these days . . ."

Lena laughed.

"Fabulous! Really, that gives us a lot to work with here, Lena," said the trainer with a momentous surge of energy, contrary to the soft, gentle voice he had used when first addressing her, as if he had been talking to a small child, or a baby rabbit or something. "I'm Jett, by the way."

"Jesse."

"Colleen," said Lena, just because it seemed like time to introduce herself. A split-second later, she could feel her face turning beet red and she felt like melting into the shadows. She mentally slapped herself. The man already knew her name.

Jesse winked at her, ignoring her comment. "So, are you just going to stand here making small talk with us?" asked Jesse, raising an eyebrow. Colleen silently thanked him for trying to divert Jett's attention away from this stupid, yet humiliating idle chitchat.

"Why, of course! . . . Jesse is it?"

Jett did not wait for Jesse's reply before continuing on. "Since Lena's such a great artist, I think she'll catch on quickly," he said. Lena sunk a bit further back.

But Jett beamed at her. "Don't be shy, Lena. Come on."

Lena soon found, as Jett had predicted, that not only was she having heaps of fun playing around with all of the colors and textures as she rearranged her own face and Jesse's to blend into different backgrounds, but also that she was rather good at it. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she generally preferred to remain hidden from the crowd when in public, or maybe just her artistic talent shining through, but either way, on numerous occasions, Jesse, who had been standing by her the whole time, lost track of her in the midst of one of the backgrounds Jett gave to them to practice with. She would pop up behind him and say "boo!" even though she knew it had stopped scaring him after the first time, just to evoke that charming laugh out of his system at their new inside joke.

Colleen splattered a bit of mud that she had been working with onto Jesse's face intentionally and giggled.

Jesse smirked and put one arm on her back. "Alrighty then, Lena. I think you've had enough fun over here for one day . . . why don't we try something else out now?"

Lena shrugged. "Sure. But just admit it, Jesse: You're only saying that because I totally beat you at camouflage!" she laughed.

Her best friend mock-pouted. "I can't believe you would ever accuse me of such a thing, Lena! I'm offended. Really, I am."

"Really?" Lena raised her eyebrows at him. "You can't really be offended, Jesse, just cause I crushed you like a bug," she told him, a smug smile tugging at her lips.

"Nah, Lena, I'm not, but that doesn't mean that I'm not so going to beat you at whatever we try next."

Lena rolled her eyes and allowed herself to be whisked away by the elbow at the hands of Jesse Tanner.

* * *

**Amber Fox, 17, District Two Female**

* * *

Amber let out a high-pitched giggle. The girl walking alongside her giggled at the sound.

It was a tad bit creepy in Amber's opinion. She could be looking in the mirror every time she glanced to the side. Ember had the exact same dark complexion, chocolate brown hair and inquisitive hazel colored eyes.

"So you mean to tell me," Amber began, even though she had already asked the question and received an answer, and was now just repeating herself. "That you never tried to guilt your adoptive parents into giving you whatever you wanted?"

Ember shook her head vigorously. "No, I-"

"And you've never only dated a guy for like, a day, just to piss off your ex-boyfriend?"

"No, I don't really do that type of stuff," Ember replied, laughing. "I guess maybe we're not sisters." Her words were serious but the tone was light and Amber knew she was only joking.

"Oh, don't worry, Ember," Amber chuckled, looping her arm through Ember's and skipping forward joyfully. "I have a lot to teach you over the next few days, and you have a lot to learn. By then, we should be a lot alike."

"Good thing I'm a fast learner, then," said Ember with a smile.

"A very good thing indeed,"Amber agreed.

"And I think I've got a thing or two to teach you, Amber," Ember said thoughtfully and Amber nodded eagerly.

Amber had been ecstatic since her initial meeting with Ember the day before. She could hardly believe it. And it didn't matter whether they were actually correct or not in their thinking that they were blood-related. Because in Amber's mind, whether Ember was biologically related to her or not, Amber had gained something so amazing that she could almost forget where she would be going (key word, almost) - she now had a sister.

Amber and Ember had been spending as much time together as possible since they first met. So, as of now that only meant the whole first day of training, but Amber was hoping to get to know her better over the next few days. After all, they had quite a bit of lost time to make up for.

Ember was so innocent, in Amber's opinion. She thought it was cute how pure her sister seemed to have been all her life. Well, at least compared to Amber.

Amber wanted to teach Ember everything she knew that could help her in the slightest in the Games; if she didn't make it out, the least she could do was hope that her sister was able to make it back to . . . what were their names again? The Hallows or something like that?

Ember was a pleasant person to be around; she wasn't too talkative that it just got annoying, but not to quiet either so as to make things awkward. She listened to Amber when she talked and did not call Amber prissy or a bitch when she told her virtually everything she had done over the past seventeen years. She had thought Ember might get a little bored with hearing her life story, but Ember was attentive as ever and hanging on every word. This was good, because Amber could barely keep her mouth shut for five seconds around her sister. She did not know how she could be blamed for this, though. Heck, how had Ember kept from bursting everything out to Amber already. She must have great self control.

A sister . . . it was still taking a while to totally sink in. She could not believe how much a simple coincidence had worked in her favor. Well, obviously the odds had not been in her favor at all, if both she and her twin sister were reaped for the Hunger Games, but the fact that they were reaped on the very same day for the very same Games just made Amber feel lucky for some reason.

A sister . . .

She liked the way it sounded in her brain. She had a sister. She had always wanted a twin or a sister about her age. Never a much older or much younger sibling, because an older one would think that they were so much cooler than Amber (which she could never even begin to fathom allowing to happen), and a younger one would suck up all the attention from her parents (again, unthinkable).

But this, this was perfect.

A sister. She could hardly believe it.

A sister. A twin sister. Remarkable.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so much everybody for reading this chapter! I really hope you liked it and please please leave a review! Remember, 10 points for reviewing!**

**I'd love for you guys to comment on the various POVs we had in this chapter, you get an additional 5 points added to the other 10 for doing this :)**

**Also, in case you did not quite notice from when Agatha told the tributes from District Four, there will be two more days of training after this, then the private training sessions, but instead of receiving a number grade for their performance, each tribute will be assigned his or her rank at that point, but will not be told which team s/he is on. Then there will be the interviews, then the tributes will get their actual team numbers, then each team will have three days to meet and plan some tactics for the Games and the Bloodbath and to just meet each other and stuff, and then into the arena we go! Yay! I can't wait :D**

**Anywat, once again, thanks for reading and thanks in advance for your reviews :D**


	11. Training Day 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games!**

**A/N: Thanks so much to all those who reviewed the last chapter! It really makes my day to hear what you guys have to say :D (hey, that rhymed!)**

**Here's the next chapter :) I hope you like it and please leave me a review to let me know what you thought**

* * *

**Nicholas James, 18, District One Male**

* * *

Yesterday was a bust. He had tried to get in with more of his district partners, but the only ones who would even speak to him were Wonder, Luster, Nate, and Shine, and he was pretty sure that Nate was only doing so out of pity and Shine because, well . . . Shine did not exactly have many friends of his own to hang out with.

He couldn't really blame any of the others, though, for his predicament. It was his own fault, after all. He had been the one to say those fateful words; the very words that would no doubt lead his life in a spiral of chaos and turmoil for the next few weeks which would almost inevitably lead to his death. He was the one who had Volunteered. He had craved popularity and it led him to making a rash and just utterly stupid decision.

No matter. There was nothing he could do about it now, was there?

Nicholas sighed.

"Ready to get down to training?"

Nick nodded not even totally registering who had asked the question, until he saw the deep blue of Nate Brenner's eyes peering down upon him.

"Uh, yeah," Nick spluttered, abashed. "Yeah, s-sure."

Nicholas had not expected it to be Nate who was speaking to him. He thought it would be Wonder or Luster, to be honest. It wasn't that he and Nate weren't friendly. Just that they weren't the best of friends per se.

And Nate was pretty popular back home. Especially with the girls.

Nick beamed to himself as he came to this revelation, and he followed Nate along.

And the best part was, he had not even totally embarrassed himself by doing something so incredibly clumsy that he wouldn't want to show his face for weeks. (Well, not yet anyway.) He mentally gave himself a pat on the back for that feat.

"Hey, wait up, Nate," purred a squeaky voice. Nicholas and Nate both turned around to see Sequin shaking her hips widely as she scurried towards them. Her pants must have been at least three sizes too big. Nicholas wondered faintly whether she stole them from some unsuspecting twelve-year-old from one of the outer districts.

"Erm, hey Sequin . . ." Nate trailed off awkwardly, red in the face.

"I was just wondering if I could walk with you guys." Sequin touched her hand to Nick's elbow and he felt a surge of excitement. "You know," she batted her eyelashes. "If you want . . ."

"Sure, Sequin," Nate said kindly, oblivious to Sequin's attempts at flirting. "We're always up for a third, eh Nicky?"

Nicholas just nodded dumbly, afraid that if he opened his mouth a loud belch would come out and humiliate him as it had done on the day of the reapings. Shimmer still looked down upon him with disgust.

Nick knew that Sequin was more into Nate than him, but he couldn't help the pride that swelled in his chest for himself: He had clearly avoided making Sequin revolted by his mere presence being as she did touch his elbow. And she had put so much effort into being accepted to walk with him and Nate . . .

Nicholas beamed, this time visibly. Another of his district partners - and a female, no less! - had now acknowledged his presence and chosen to put her efforts into flirting with Nate, despite knowing that it would mean she had to walk with Nicholas too. So . . . that was great news for his current status on the social ladder, wasn't it?

Sequin's curvy figure moved soundlessly, inching closer and closer to Nate.

Suddenly, a thought popped into Nicholas' head: Didn't Sequin seem so interested in Bronze just yesterday? He shrugged it off though. This chick was a professional stripper. It must be second nature to her to try and seduce guys. He could hardly say that she was attached to Bronze.

Maybe he'd even be next. Then he could rest easy, knowing that the popular kids will respect him. Because Sequin was hot right? So if she tried to get in with him then they must think he's cool . . .

Could he be next? He wasn't sure. She had seemed to like him well enough as a friend at least, judging from the events of the past few minutes. Maybe it would be him.

* * *

**Ariel Roam, 12, District Ten Female**

* * *

Ariel giggled. "I dunno, Gracen. What do you think?"

Gracen mulled his own question over for a moment before replying. "Oh, that'd be Oxx Turnt. Yep. Most definitely."

Ariel doubled over in laughter and punched him lightly on the arm. "No seriously, Gracen. Who are you going to miss the most?"

He grinned. "I told you, Ariel: Oxx. I was being totally serious. Well, his brother, actually. What was his name . . . ? Doesn't matter. It's him I'll miss the most, because I'm really grateful to him."

Ariel felt like laughing again, but Gracen's tone did not seem like laughter would be appropriate. In addition, he was now looking anywhere but at her, his gaze trained fixedly towards the ground.

"What? Why?"

"Because, it's only because of him that . . ."

He mumbled the rest, and Ariel did not quite catch it. "What was that?"

Gracen sighed, but still did not meet her eyes. "Because it's thanks to him that we became friends. You know, when he was saying all that mean stuff to me and he punched me and then you swooped in and saved me . . ."

Gracen seemed to embarrassed to finish, but Ariel had heard enough already. She squeezed his tiny body against her even smaller one. "That's just about the sweetest thing I've ever heard, Gracen! Seriously!"

Gracen blushed even deeper. Then, he took a deep breath and smiled to her brown eyes. Ariel returned his smile, glad to see that he was no longer embarrassed to say that he was so thankful for their friendship.

"I've never really thought about it that way, though. That I only met you thanks to Turnt . . ."

"Me either," he replied. "But, you know, last night I was thinking about what would happen if we were not friends before we were reaped and I was just wondering if like, we'd become friends and stuff. And then that just got me thinking about what might have been if Turnt had not been bullying me on that day, and so . . . yeah."

Ariel hugged him even tighter and this time, Gracen hugged back.

She pushed him away abruptly with a laugh. "But you're really not going to miss Oxx Turnt and his brother, are you?" She raised an eyebrow.

Gracen shrugged. "Nah, I'll miss Grace the most. I just wasn't sure how else to tell you how great a friend you are to me Ariel. Because I thought you ought to know now that we're going to be going to the Games and-" he choked on the last words - "who know's whether we'll live or die."

Ariel beamed at him. She wanted to tell him that his friendship meant that much to her too, but her words were cut off when she saw Claire bounding towards them, her red curls bouncing as she moved.

"Excited much?" Gracen smirked.

Ariel smiled to herself, glad that Gracen finally felt comfortable around someone other than herself and Grace.

"Yes, sweetie! I wanted to tell you guys that-"

Claire cut herself off with a massive flinch. She put a hand up to her head and breathed heavily as if in great pain.

Ariel ventured towards her slowly. "Are- are you all right, Claire?" Her voice was tinier than her body.

Claire shook her head, and even that seemed to cause her tremendous pain.

Ariel and Gracen exchanged a look of bewilderment.

Finally, Claire squared her shoulders, and wobbled around for a few seconds, as if out of balance.

"Yes, dear," she said, in answer to Ariel, though Ariel had posed the question minutes ago, and she was almost certain that Claire had shaken her head in answer of the negative. I'm fine," she smiled warmly.

Ariel put a finger to her lips, briefly, debating whether or not to say something more.

She concluded in the affirmative: "Are you sure, Claire? Because just a moment ago it looked as if-"

"I'm fine!" Claire snapped cutting her off, then immediately seemed to regret it when Ariel winced, hurt, and visibly so.

Claire sighed. "Sorry, Ariel. I didn't mean to snap at you." She opened her arms out comfortingly to Ariel. The younger girl snuggled into her embrace like she assumed she would if she still had a big sister to take care of her.

"B-But . . ."

"It's all right," said Claire gently. "I'm sorry for coming across so harshly. You can ask whatever you want."

"But . . . I was just going to say that . . . that you didn't really look so all right and . . . and I just wanted to know if there was anything Gracen and I can do to help?"

She had not intended for it to come out like a question.

Claire shook her head. "Being a friend to me it help enough," she said, giving Ariel a squeeze. "And besides, it's not usually that bad. The headaches are actually not even so painful most of the time. Well, at least compared to that monster I just experienced."

She looked at them pityingly. "There's nothing for you to worry about though, Ariel sweetie."

"But- But what's going on?" Gracen, who had not said a word to Claire since his initial teasing, now apparently could not contain his curiosity any longer.

Claire sighed. "I didn't want to tell you guys. Not just yet at least. I didn't want you to think differently of me because of it, but I guess now's a time as good as any, right?"

Neither of the two younger children said a word. Claire gave them each a reassuring smile. Ariel was still on her lap and she took Gracen's hand.

"Have you guys ever heard of a blood clot or an aneurysm?"

Ariel and Gracen both remained silent as Claire told them about everything that was going on inside her head. Ariel assumed she was leaving out some of the finer details for their benefit.

"So you're going to die?" Gracen said softly, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

But before Claire had the chance to answer, Ariel broke away from her and stood up, throwing her arms around her best friend. "Gracen," she began, her tone a soft cushion. She sniffed, now crying as well. "Gracen, we're all going to die."

Claire wrapped her arms around them both and rubbed Gracen's back comfortingly, but she did not say a word.

* * *

**Shine Lancast, 16, District One Male**

* * *

The clock seemed to be ticking faster than usual. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. And with every tick of the clock, Shine was brought one step closer to the arena. One step closer to a brutal murder or a long and painful death of starvation. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

"Yeah, I can use a dagger," Shine said softly to the trainer. "Just about the only weapon I can use, but yes, I can use a dagger."

He knew his voice must sound faint, distant, far off, but he could not help it. He knew it would be much more beneficial to listen to the trainer, show her his skills, and listen to her critiques and advice. He was a healer, not a fighter.

"For defense purposes only," he added hastily, not wanting the trainer - Demi - to get the impression that he had been training his whole life with the damn thing when, in reality, he had only minimal knowledge of how to use it for self-defense.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. This time he had not even looked at the clock. He had forced himself to focus only on what Demi had to say, and not think about the time that was escaping him far too quickly. He was trying his hardest to push from his brain the fact that this could very well be one of his last days on earth. But the ticking followed him nonetheless. He did not know if he was imagining the sound of it in his brain or not.

He ran a hand a hand through his neatly styled red hair.

"Well, that's better than nothing, isn't it, dear?" Demi commented, offering him a warm smile of comfort.

Shine felt like he was going to puke. What was he doing here? It was as if the clock was sending him a message: As he had realized before, this day could very well be one of his last on earth. And here he was, spending one of his final days, learning how to use a weapon so that he'd be able to end others' lives? Even in self-defense that was unacceptable.

"I- I'm sorry, Miss," he choked, feeling awkward calling her by her name when she was not calling him by his. "I think my time before the Games would be better spent elsewhere. Sorry for the inconvenience."

"That's quite all right, dear," she said, unfazed, and waved him goodbye with five perfectly manicured fingers. "Have fun!"

"I'll try," he waved back to her, because he was not sure what else to do.

Have fun? How was he supposed to have fun? The clock was ticking, rushing forward. Fun was not the right word to describe hear. Being from District One, Shine was well aware of the excited beams that cross the faces of children who Volunteer to be tributes. He was quite conscious of the fact that in One, the more kills a tribute had in the arena, the more honorable they were.

A shudder ran through his spine.

He would just be another kill. Maybe even of a district partner of his. Possibly Tessa or Bryce: He could imagine them wanting to make good on their promise.

But what good would fighting back do? He couldn't win. He was not going to take the life of another human being no matter what. So, as he had told Demi, improving his skills with the dagger would not do him much good.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The clock was ticking. He had to plan out his time carefully now: After today, only one more day of training before the private sessions.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The clock was ticking.

"Healing, then?" he unintentionally asked himself out loud for confirmation. No one paid him any mind.

Healing did sound like his best option. He was already a healer will expertise to rival those of any trained professional in the field. Maybe he could prove useful to his team because of this. Maybe they would want to help him stay alive for as long as possible. A healer with good survival skills. Not too shabby, especially compared to some of the tributes from the outer districts, with virtually no helpful skills in the Games.

"Healing it is." This time he was acutely aware that he was speaking audibly before the words left his mouth.

Saying something out loud made it official. There was a certain sense of finality to a spoken declaration as opposed to a mere thought.

This was official; a finality.

Just as he had made this very same declaration out loud to his father years ago when he told the man that he would not be pursuing a career as a tribute in the Games and that he would spend most of his time focusing on becoming a better healer instead, so too, here he was telling himself that whatever happened in the Games, he would stay a healer and not a fighter.

He was not a fighter, he was a healer, and things were just so much better this way.

Shine felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. A healer. A healer. That was all he had ever been his whole life and he had been perfectly content with it. More than content, brilliantly ecstatic. What had he been thinking trying to hone his ability with a dagger? Healing is where his heart lie and he refused to let these Games change that.

A healer. Tick tock, tick tock. Not a fighter. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

The Games were coming. Tick tock. Get a move on, Shine, they're almost here. Tick tock. Time is running out.

Tick tock.

* * *

**Rhiannon Holloway, 17, District Four Female**

* * *

"Be still my heart!" Derek gasped dramatically. "Do my eyes deceive me? Is Rhiannon Holloway really not partaking in any of the action going on over yonder," he motioned with his hands all around the Training center; tributes bustling about, trainers giving instructions animatedly; bits and pieces of conversations floating around towards them.

Rhiannon rolled her eyes at his saracasm. It was no secret that Rhiannon much preferred to remain quiet and alone, pen flourishing this way and that on her sketchpad, rather than caught in all of the action or dealing with weaponry.

She knew that Derek was just trying to be kind and lighten the mood, but nevertheless, she found the way he almost just popped up out of nowhere to be exceedingly annoying. Immersed in her drawing, she had not even realized that he was coming straight towards her until he popped up out of nowhere and started talking t her like they were best friends.

She blinked at him with purple irises. "Please don't try the humor on me today, Derek." She said the words kindly, but she could feel an undercurrent of stress and agitation underneath. She wondered faintly whether Derek caught it.

"Aw, come on, Rhiannon! Don't be such a party pooper! Join the crowd! If you're lucky, maybe I'll even show you what I can do."

He grinned at her.

She smacked him playfully on the arm with her sketchpad, but she was smiling. "Don't try for the cocky boy act, Bluetip, it doesn't work on you."

Derek put a hand over his heart. "Really Rhiannon, you think it's not working with me? And here I thought we were on a first name basis. Must you really call me Bluetip? After all we've been through together?"

Rhiannon laughed. "All we've been through together? Such as . . ."

"Oh I don't know," he shrugged, then his tone turned serious and he gave her a smile of genuine encouragement. "There's got to be something though, right?"

Rhiannon shrugged as well.

"So . . . friends?" He extended his hand to her from her position, balled up on the floor and helped her up.

"Friends," she agreed, surprised at herself for being able to form a friendship this quickly.

Friends.

She could not believe it. She could not believe the effect that saying that one simple word could have on her. Friends. Suddenly, life did not seem quite so bad anymore. So what if things were going awfully right now? So what if she probably had the worst boyfriend on the entire planet. So what if she would never be sexy and popular like she dreamed of as a little girl. Heck, so what if she was about to enter an arena to fight to the death.

Because now she could say that at the very least she had one friend who would be with her through it.

And for what felt like the first time since the night before reaping day (surely it couldn't have been the first time . . . but no other instances came to mind) that Rhiannon Holloway smiled. She beamed brightly. For the first time since reaping say she was more than just happy; she felt complete and whole once again. She did not feel like Rhiannon, the girl that was raped. A girl to be pitied, but avoided. No, now she felt like she thought she ought to: Still shy as anything, (some things never change) around most people, (clearly Derek did not fall into that category for some reason, even though she did not know him very well) but as if she wanted to take on the world. As though she wanted to be kind to people and help guide her team to victory. She felt like, for once in her life, she wanted to take charge and to be a true leader.

Silently, she took Derek's hand and pulled him along behind her. At some point, she let go, but she did not have to look behind herself repeatedly to know that he was following. More than once, Derek ventured an attempt at a conversation, and Rhiannon contributed to said conversations politely, even though she had never been much of a talker.

"So . . . where to now?" she asked, fidgeting with her platinum blond hair.

Derek gestured once more. "Wherever your heart desires. The sky's the limit."

It was true. She really should be enjoying her last few days of complete and total freedom. Rob had not given her much freedom, and the arena surely wouldn't either. But here, in this Training Center. For these next two days, (day and a half more like, being as the second day of training was about half over) she was free. And she was going to love it. And she was not going to waste one moment of it.

She beamed at Derek once more. "You know, it's been a while since a guy's said that to me."

* * *

**Wade Lockhearst, 15, District Four Male**

* * *

Wade was not even entirely sure of what he was doing until it was over, or why he was doing it. Maybe he could be described as an interferer. Maybe a peacemaker if one was being kind. But either way, seeing a fight in action annoyed Wade greatly. He was generally a pretty laid back person. He enjoyed just watching the ripples of the sea and relaxing out on his father's boat, fishing. But fights peaked his irritation. He always felt some sort of urge to make them stop. Particularly when it came to arguments. And today was no exception.

He did not know any of these four people. Two boys and two girls. (At least, that was what he thought; two of the kids he was not entirely sure about when it came to gender as the one who at first glance seemed like a girl because of his medium length hair definitely had mostly boyish qualities to his face and vice versa.)

One of the boys towered over the other three tributes. The girl standing next to him snickered idly when the huge boy taunted the other two. The taller of the two others; the girl with hair cropped like a boy's, looked ready to punch the large man right in the face.

The tribute standing next to her, squealed something Wade did not quite catch and the large boy bared his teeth. The girl standing next to the large boy (who just so happened to have breasts the size of watermelons) looked down upon the two others condescendingly.

Wade was still standing a ways away, only close enough to see some detail of the girly-boy and boyish-girl's faces. He inched forward, unable to help himself. He simply would not take this. He could not.

He did not care what anyone thought of him after this. He'd have to worry about big-boy and Watermelon in the arena after this, but then again, they seemed like the kinds of classic Careers he'd have to watch out for regardless.

"Just come on, man," he said, when he finally reached them, placing a hand on the shoulder of the girly-boy with the shoulder-length blond hair.

"Did anyone invite you over here? Hmm?"

"I-"

"No that's okay," said the girly-boy. "I'm glad you stepped in here. Really, I'm grateful."

And with that, the girly-boy took off, steering Wade in front of him. The boyish-girl trotted along, grumbling angrily, something to do with the fact that she did not get the chance to pound Bryce's face in. Bryce, he assumed, was big-boy.

"I'm Wade, just by the way."

"Wade." The girly-boy tried it out, letting it roll off of his tongue. "That's nice. I like that. I'm Adonis."

Adonis clapped Wade on the shoulder. "You seem like a nice kid, Wade. This is my sister, Alvara," he gestured to the boyish-girl, who did not acknowledge Wade's presence, even after receiving this introduction from Adonis.

Alvara cleared her throat. "I think it's time to go, Adonis. We have things to do."

Adonis shrugged. "Well, I hope we cross paths again sometime, Wade," he said diplomatically, upturning his nose. Pleasure meeting you."

And with that, he took off after his sister, into the swarming mob of tributes and trainers.

Wade breathed a sigh of relief, feeling more at home for some reason, having the chance to help these people like this, even though they were strangers. Back home, he seemed to have a thing for saving people. He had once saved this little girl from drowning when he was six-years-old. At the time she said she was seven, but Wade could hardly believe that a seven-year-old from his district did not know how to swim. Then there was the fact that he saved Julian by Volunteering for him, and the there was just his general aversion to fights and bullies.

He looked into the crowd, trying to search for Adonis once again, but the girly-boy's blond head was nowhere to be found.

* * *

**Emerson Nottishime, 16, District Four Female**

* * *

Why were they all staring at her? Emerson was on the verge of telling them all to just shove off and mind their own business.

The crowd of Careers had gathered around her as they observed her trying her hand at a sword. She heard all of the snickering. She did not appreciate the snickering, but really, who cares what all they all thought of her? What irked her most, was that they were distracting her concentration. She heard one girl from her own district whisper something to her friend and the latter burst into a fit of giggles.

Eme wanted to tell them to kindly go laugh at her from across the room, rather than here, where she was trying to learn how to fight to save her life, but they weren't worth the effort.

The long sword was heavy in Eme's arms and when she turned around to scowl at some of the surrounding Careers and others, she dropped it and it clanked to the floor with a crashing noise. Thankfully, it did not land on anyone and hurt them.

Emerson just shook her head at the immaturity of them all when they gawked at her for her lack of fortune with this weapon. Maybe trying to branch out and master some new weapons was just not a good idea like she had originally thought.

She didn't bother to even pick the sword up from the ground. "See you later, bitches," she called to the general crowd as she eased away from them.

A smirk tugged at her lips when she saw that the crowd was thinning. They had not even been waiting for the attention of the trainer at that station. They were only there to watch Eme suffer. Well, good for them. What did she care if they thought she was not an adequate fighter. She was keeping her real skills shut up for a reason, and she did not intend on letting it leak out that she had secretly been an ardent trainer with a bow and arrow. She never told anyone about this. It was none of their business, really. She guessed it must have come as a shock to them to see her Volunteer like she did. Maybe that was what all of the commotion was about at the sword-fight station: Maybe word had gotten out that District Four had a Volunteer who could not fight for her life, and they wanted to see if it was true. She could not think of any other explanation and she rolled her eyes at the other Careers.

Every station was filled. Emerson grumbled something about the idiot tributes before trudging off in the direction of archery, despite knowing that she would not be able to do anything there without revealing her talent. Maybe she'd learn a new thing or two there. She did not think there was anything else on the weapon she didn't know, but it was possible.

The main reason for her selecting this station out of the others, however, was that it was the barest one in terms of tributes at the moment, only one little boy standing there.

She approached, trying to keep her distance from this kid. She didn't want to give him the wrong idea and lead him to think that she was coming over to make friends with him or something.

She avoided his gaze, even, knowing how stupid children could be in thinking that just because she would make eye contact with one, she automatically liked him or her. She tried to avoid children in general. Actually, she tried to avoid people in general. Ninety-nine percent of them were just a waste of her time, and just a waste of her breath to speak to.

But as she came up to the station, she was surprised to find that the little boy was not like most at all. And despite all of her efforts, Eme could not stop the thought from leaking into her brain that he was a lot like _her_ in fact.

Because as soon as she reached the station devoted to archery, the boy took one good look at her, and left, his face emotionless and sunken.

* * *

**Terro Mavas, 18, District Seven Male**

* * *

Terro felt like he was missing something. Yes, here in the Capitol he could have just about anything at the snap of his fingers. Sure, here there was pretty much more food in one day than he saw in six months back home, but that didn't help fill the void in his heart.

It wasn't even the fact that he was about to go to the Hunger Games. It wasn't the fact that he'd have to kill or even the fact that he'd have to die in the near future. No, it was none of that. What was missing from his heart was missing from him right then and there in the Training Center. And it was not his life or his innocence.

He needed his family. He longed to stroke Jasmine and Willow's hair comfortingly as they cried about missing their father: They were the only ones old enough to remember him clearly besides Terro himself and his mother. He longed to look into Rosemary's blue eyes just once more and tell her that she would be okay; that under no circumstances would he let her take out any tesserae for herself and that she would not be reaped for the Games at only twelve. He longed to do the same with Cedrin, who was a year older than Rose and whom he had had an almost identical conversation with last year. He longed to hold little Lorra tightly in his arms as he had done when saying goodbye to her right after he was reaped and tell her that he was only going to be away for a little while and that he promised to return to her no matter what. The promise had been a lie and Terro was generally an honest person, but he felt that it was necessary. He longed to yell at the children who bullied his poor little brother, Rocan, and tell them once more that if they ever laid a hand on Rocan's little body again, he would make them sorry.

It was ironic, really. Not one of these things was something he'd ever wish to do again: he wouldn't ever want Jasmine and Willow to cry; wouldn't want Rose and Cedrin to worry; wouldn't want Lorra to be unsure of where he was and he wouldn't want to lie to her; wouldn't want to scream at little kids. But he wanted to repeat these experiences because they so closely tied him to his siblings. To his family. He loved them so much and he just wanted them all to know that that was the case. He wanted to know that they were supporting him here. He didn't want them to ever give up on him, even if he knew he wasn't going to make it out.

He knew that there were people who deserved to come out of the arena alive far more than he did. There was Riley, for instance, who was a great person and Terro knew it. And Riley had a real live family of his own. He had a wife and child to love and care for. He had a wife and child who might not be able to support themselves without him. Terro prayed that he would be on the same team as Riley, so that he would not even have to think about hurting the boy or someone on his team hurting him. But what if he wasn't? What if it came down to killing someone who's family needed him so much? Surely Terra and Wren needed their husband and father more than Terro's siblings and mother needed their brother and son. Not to mention the fact that Riley was probably a brother and a son as well.

And what about Sapphire? What if she was not on his team? There would be no way that Terro could ever even think about killing her or standing by and watching her die, or not protecting her or whatever. Jasmine, Willow, and Rosemary were her best friends, for heaven's sake. Did he really have the option not to do whatever he could to protect her? What if by some miracle he returned home, but his sisters were mad at him or something for not taking better care of Sapphire? Surely they would understand . . . well, at least he hoped they would understand.

"Hey, Terro?"

Terro huffed, annoyed at being broken out of his highly serious thoughts, but just sighed when he realized that it was none other than Riley and Sapphire who were standing right next to him.

Riley's head was a few inches above Terro's own and Sapphire's a few inches shorter.

Terro did not answer, but Riley cleared his throat spoke again anyway.

"Terro, I was just thinking that, well, I know we're not the absolute best of friends back home, but you've been nothing but an amazing and incredibly loyal friend to me, and I feel as though I've done very little to return the favor."

"Of course you've done enough-"

"No, seriously, Terro. You and Sapphire and Alvara are the only three people who are making me any less nervous about entering the Games: Now at least I know that I tried to protect them - Terra and Wren, that is - and if none of us make it out alive then . . . well, then at least I'll know that I tried, like I said."

Riley's voice sounded so cheerful now, so unlike the urgent tone he had used back at the train ride.

The boy was now also beaming at Terro and Sapphire, and Sapphire was returning his smile, though not quite with equal measure.

Terro gave them both a small smile as well and Riley breathed a sigh of relief and let out a short, musical laugh.

"So what do you say, Terro? Sapphire's already agreed and now I'll just have to track down Alvara somewhere . . . but anyway, what do you say, Terro? Friends?"

He held out his hand eagerly and Terro shook it, glad for the notion.

"Friends," he agreed. "I won't do anything to harm you in the arena," said Terro with a supportive smile.

Riley laughed. "I wasn't planning on doing anything to harm you in the arena anyway, but now I'm going to make it my personal business to make sure that if I can't get home - which has to be my first priority for obvious reasons - it'll be one of you two or Alvara that does. Really, I owe you guys that much and so much more, even if we're on different teams.

Terro blushed, embarrassed that Riley was so intent on he or Sapphire or Alvara getting home if he, Riley, could not do so himself. Terro admired Riley's determination greatly. He was going to do whatever he could to get home. And Terro also admired Riley's loyalty and the fact that he held so much by their friendship, when the two were not even so close. He was going to do whatever he could to make sure that if he himself could not get home, one of his new "friends" would. Maybe it was not even "friends." Who knows, maybe Riley really did consider the four of them to be very close. Or maybe Terro just did not understand, because he was not a father: he tried to do whatever he could to be there for his little siblings and his mother and support them and take out tesserae for them all, rather than letting Jasmine, Willow, Cedrin, or Rosemary take out any at all. He loved them more than anything else in the world, and he protected them, really he did. But he was not the father of his siblings. He did not have a wife and he did not have a child, so maybe that was why he could not totally understand Riley's reasoning. Maybe loving someone as much as a parent loves a child was a love so different and so strong that it changed everything; changed your perception of the world; changed your thoughts on life; changed your thoughts on who your real friends were.

"Friends," Terro repeated, this time with a stronger smile. This time, with more forceful words. This time, saying it like it was as important as it really was. This time, making sure Riley and Sapphire knew that he would never go back on it.

* * *

**Cassandra Vale, 16, District Four Female**

* * *

Cassandra's hands shook as she threw knife after knife at the target. She could already practically hear the cannon sounding in her ears; could already hear it signifying that yet another person was dead at the hands of the Hunger Games. She knew what it would remind her of, of course. The gunshot signifying the end of Ariel's life would surely sound similar in Ariel's ears to that of a cannon boom.

Being from Four, a Career district, she had been trained in this area, despite not ever having any intentions of Volunteering for the Games, but today her shots were way off from the center of the target, where she usually had little trouble making them reach.

She felt hollow on the inside. Her stomach seemed to have curled itself up into a tight knot with no forethought of ever uncurling itself and allowing her to breath properly. It was not that she was hungry, obviously, as she had had more to eat in the past two days than ever before. (Cassandra was one of the few people from her district who truly knew what it felt like to go hungry.) And it was not the fact that she had eaten too much in the last two days. She knew that food had nothing to do with the ache which had rooted itself deep in her stomach.

The Games were coming, nearer and nearer. They were encroaching on the central part of her brain and clouding her ability to think straight. In the back of her mind she knew that it would all be okay and it would all be over soon enough. She knew that soon enough, Ariel's face would be looming over her own, and she could rest easy knowing that she'll be with her sister. Then, her only regrets will be leaving her mother - but she's strong, she'll be okay - and whatever murders she may commit in the Games - but this one was inevitable in the Games; she was not suicidal after all; the will to survive still existed in her very bones, despite her brain just wanting to see her sister again.

"If you're not going to do anything, please move," a voice said cooly. It was one of the boys from Two. Cassandra recognized his face, but did not remember his name. His face seemed to be twisted into a permanent scowl.

Until the boy spoke, Cassandra had not realized that she had frozen, mid throw, lost in her thoughts.

"S-sorry," she said, her cheeks filling with color.

She held out the knife and he took it, raising and eyebrow, but his expression for the most part did not stray.

Cassandra walked away, not wanting to stir up trouble with these two.

She gaped, open-mouthed, however, when the boy just spoke to the girl standing next to him - his twin, as Cassandra knew. "Come on, Snow," he said, rather emotionlessly in Cassandra's opinion. "Let's not waste our time here."

The two spun on their heels simultaneously, and with that they were gone, Snow's brother only remembering at the last second to press the blunt handle of the knife into the trainer's hand in return.

Cassandra was offended: They were not even waiting to use the station themselves, and yet they had to rain on her parade like that . . . Not that she had been succeeding so well with the knives today, but still. It was rude.

The other thing that bothered her was the tone the boy had spoken to Snow in. Couldn't he at least speak to her with a smile? Maybe there was just something on his mind now, but still . . . Cassandra could not possible imagine speaking to Ariel with any emotion other than happiness or love and the boy had just been so emotionless. Not even angry or frustrated or annoyed or scared. Nothing.

She shrugged, once again, not wishing to get involved with them any more than she had to.

She stood still for a moment, until she spotted Caspian and she felt a pang. The other day on the chariots, of course she noticed him checking out Wade and Derek. How could she not? She was checking Wade out just the same as he. How could she not be attracted to him? Copper hair and eyes like sapphires. She knew he was a year younger than her, but so what? And those muscles looked far more mature than those of a fifteen-year-old. Not to mention the fact that he had been so brave, Volunteering for his brother like that.

The shock of her own reaping had upstaged that of Wade's, but really, she was almost as scared for him as she was for herself. Well, maybe not that much, but she had not liked Wade's name being called one bit. She did not even know if he remembered what he did for her, but she would always remember.

It had been years ago that it happened, but she remembered it clear as day nonetheless. She was a kid, seven years old to the day, and not a good swimmer, even though she came from District Four. Her mother had splurged that day. Her seventh birthday, renting them a boat as a special treat. Everything went very wrong, however. The boat tipped over in the middle of the sea. Hally, her mother, was thrown far away and swimming at top speed to save her, but not fast enough. Meanwhile, Cassandra was failing and keeping herself afloat as best she could, but it was no use. She was pretty much knocking on death's door, when that unknown kid saved him. He was out on his father's boat, and, without even gaining permission from his father, he jumped in and pulled her into his own boat, wrapping towels around her.

Wade's father then collected Cassandra's mother and the rental boat and she could remember the finer details from there, but the important part was over. Wade had saved her life, and ever since then, little seven-year-old Cassandra, and then eight-year-old Cassandra, and then nine and ten and eleven and so on, had tailed him, trying to get to know him as best she could, trying to repay him (of course, this one was impossible, but she was so grateful to him that at least she could try) for saving her. They were not friends, she could not call them that. But at least she had had a few conversations with him in the past nine years. She never brought up the incident, but they were still conversations, and she was proud of herself for that.

"Cassandra are you okay, there?"

Cassandra jumped, then laughed nervously as she realized that Caspian had repeated her own words to him during the chariot rides.

"Fine. Just fine," she said, not bothering to try and remember and try and mimic Caspian's complete answer to her.

"Are you-"

"Yes, I'm sure," she said. "I'm perfectly fine, Caspian." She didn't want him tracing her thoughts back to Wade. She didn't know how he would make the connection, but she did not want him to find a way.

"Okay," he looked down.

"I'm sorry, Caspian," she said sympathetically. "Really, I am. I didn't mean to offend you in any way. Please forgive me."

Caspian shrugged. "No, no, I'm not offended at all, I just."

"You just . . .?"

"Never mind," he gave her a tiny smile before taking off in the opposite direction.

Cassandra stood there for a moment once again, confused, before shrugging it off. Whatever.

* * *

**Andromeda "Andi" DeCoralis, 16, District Four Female**

* * *

Andi was taking advantage of her time in the Training Center. She was getting in as much practice as possible. Her heart was pumping blood through her veins at top speed. Beads of sweat were trickling down her forehead and neck. But she would not stop. She could not stop. Her opponent was good, but not good enough. He was a trainer, he should have known how to fight better than the tributes. And perhaps he did know how to fight better than your average tribute in these Games. But not better than Andi.

She twisted his arm and flipped him over. He fell to the ground and he stood up, panting. "Nice work, sweetheart," he beamed at her, and offered a hand which she did not shake.

"Thanks," she breathed.

She had covered so much ground in terms of her training in the last two days. Her father would be proud. He was always telling her to use her time wisely, because it was the one thing she could never get back once it was gone.

She noticed the little Conan from District Seven walking by with two other tiny young tributes and a shudder ran through her. Her father was wrong. Time was not the only thing that could never be re obtained once lost. Human lives fell into that category as well. The only reason she had bothered to learn Conan's name was because of the significance that his district and gender held. Her brother was killed in the Games two years ago by the male tribute from District Seven, and she had held a grudge against that particular position ever since. She knew all of the names of Conan's male district partners as well: Terro, Adonis, and Riley.

She wrapped her arms around herself, now chilly, contrary to mere moments before when she felt like she had just been baked in the sun.

Andi was not going to allow her brother's death to go unavenged. Nalin was probably the closest to Andi out of all of her siblings, and the only one of them that did not win his Games. It would not be taken on Conan, (he was only an innocent little boy) but revenge would be had one way or another. Andi was determined to make it happen.

Where to now? she pondered. She already had archery and tridents down pat. She could try her hand at some throwing knives - she wasn't bad, but she knew they were not her greatest asset. Besides, a cluster of tributes from Two were congregating near there, and she didn't want to get to close to them for fear of getting violent on them. Her niece was killed in the final eight of the Games by the girl from Two, and she did not think she could stand to be around so many females that must resemble the wretched girl - the one who killed Kiandra, her sister Riva's daughter - greatly.

She ought to go back to tridents, she decided. Oceanlena Manae was there and, although she liked Ocean and did not want to hurt the other girl's feelings, Andi could not resist the overwhelming temptation to go over there and do better than her as she knew she was more than capable of. And this was the Hunger Games. It was only a matter of time before Ocean would be most likely hurt or killed in ways far worse than just by taking slight offense at the fact that Andi was about to crush her at tridents. It was sad, but it was the truth.

She pranced on over to where Ocean was standing and wordlessly picked up the other trident.

It was pitiful really, what they were instructed to do: They were supposed to stab the moving dummies on the floor until they "bled to death."

Oceanlena was already succeeding with flying colors and Andi's competitive instincts caused her to grit her teeth and stab twice as hard as she normally would, despite the fact that this was not necessary.

The other girl finally noticed Andi and looked up.

"Andromeda, right?"

"Yes," she growled. Of course Ocean knew her name. What was she playing at by questioning her like that?

A few more minutes passed in which the only sounds to be heard were the grunts of the dummies that had been created to make noise when stabbed.

Finally, Ocean giggled awkwardly. "You're really good, Andromeda. I mean, obviously, we all know that, but really, you're really good with the trident."

Andi beamed, suddenly feeling as though she could hug the girl. "Thanks, Ocean. That's nice of you to say. You aren't half bad yourself." Suddenly, she did not feel the need to beat Oceanlena anymore. Ocean had already acknowledged how well Andi could aim, so there really was no more point. "Of course, I've been training since I was little, so I know a bunch of stuff about training. You didn't intend on entering the Games, though, did you Ocean?"

"No," she said calmly. "I was reaped."

"That's what I thought," Andi muttered, wondering why Ocean sounded so proud of the fact that she had not Volunteered. The girl had talent after all. She could have done well as a Volunteer. "Well, nice talking to you. Hope to see you again soon." Andi gave Ocean an awkward pat on the shoulder and took off.

That was a pretty stupid thing to say. Of course she would be seeing Ocean again soon. She saw her everyday nowadays; they were district partners.

Her chocolate eyes blinked a few stray bronze hairs out of the way from underneath thick lashes and she turned around and waved back at Oceanlena one last time before leaving the girl to practice with those pointless dummies in peace.

* * *

**Tessa Hart, 18, District One Female**

* * *

Tessa giggled purposefully as she skipped along throughout the Center. She realized that up until now she had just been herself around the other tributes, and that was not the best idea as she wanted to surprise them. It was okay though, because her true personality had not shown through to too many people, and it could be excused as just nerves for the upcoming Hunger Games. Few people - even from her own district - knew what she was really like at home, so this was a good thing as well.

From now on, however, she had a plan. Until she stepped off of her plate in the arena, she would pretend to be a dense, ditzy blond girl who had no clue what she was doing and was only in this for the attention it brought.

Whenever she passed cute guys - regardless of the district - she would squeak a giggle and show off her large breasts and long legs.

No one would know what they had coming from her, and the best part was, as always, she got to order Bryce around, and this time she had told him to act as he would to Shine Lancast, to any tribute who seemed an easy target. And Tessa could just stand by and watch it happen and giggle and laugh as if she thought it was all a joke, even though in reality she knew that Bryce was 100 percent serious about everything he said to them.

She figured she would also not train over the next two days. It was a risk, but she had honestly been training since she knew how to walk, what more training did she need? And being as she was so experienced and skilled with just about all weapons, what was she expected to branch out and use without blowing her cover.

She could "try" training and totally mess up, but that would completely defeat the purpose of training.

She could try a survival station, but that would not help her in the Games. What would she need stupid survival skills for, when she'd be able to take whatever she wanted from the Cornucopia?

Tessa's heart skipped a beat as Bryce approached some little boy. She inched closer, whilst still seeming to just happen upon the scene. She really was good at this.

She had already practiced this situation countless times before; act as though she truly thought Bryce was trying to help the kid, then when he said anything mean, she would pretend to believe that they were just teasing like all friends do, and she would not even have to contain her pleasure. Virtually no work on her part, and she would get a lovely show to watch.

But, unfortunately, Tessa did not get her show. Because just as quickly as Bryce approached the boy - from District Eleven, she noted - the kid took one look at him and ran off in the opposite direction.

Dammit, couldn't she have any fun before the Games started?

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, I'm sorry for the longer-than-usual wait between updates. Anyway, I'm personally pretty proud of this chapter, but I'm an awful judge of my own writing, so it might actually be terrible. Please let me know what you thought and I would really really appreciate it if you commented on the different POVs in this chapter :D Thanks!**


	12. Training Day 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games!**

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has read/reviewed the last chapter as well as those who are currently reading this one :) Also, just a reminder that, like I said before, there are 100 tributes in this story, so even if your tribute has not gotten a POV yet, please be patient :) **

* * *

**Husk, 17, District Nine Male**

* * *

The man told Husk to swipe his scythe. Husk complied.

At the next station, the woman told Husk to detect the pattern of which plants and insects were edible. He did just that.

It was all because the boy told him to. Husk was not stupid. He recognized Rye.

He wasn't sure why Rye was sticking to him so firmly. It did not really make sense. Rye did not stick to much of anyone or anything, really, as far as Husk knew. Yet, Husk was, in a way, sticking back to him. He was going through the motions at Rye's command just like he did at Mr. Bentley's

"Can't you say something, Husk?" Rye demanded, becoming frustrated.

Husk did made no move, let alone a move to speak. He continued to stare off into the distance like he had previously. His hazel eyes glazed over Rye's pale skin and ears lined with earrings.

"Do something, Husk!" said Rye.

Husk lifted his hand up, but the second he pushed it closer to the younger boy, Rye flinched away. "Don't try to touch me," he scowled. "Do something of _use._"

What did that mean? If he knew what Rye wanted, then maybe he could figure out what to do but he had not a clue.

Husk's glassy eyes flickered to Rye's face for a split-second, but then rested once more on none other than the back wall of the Training Center.

Rye kicked the floor, then took a deep breath. "Remember what Hallah said . . ." he grumbled to himself. Husk did not catch the rest. It reminded Husk of hearing wisps of conversations from other workers back at Mr. Bentley's. People often spoke private things or even words that really were meant to be mere thoughts out loud in Husk's presence. They thought he didn't know. They assumed that he would never understand.

But he did. He knew more than he let on.

Rye seemed to, indeed, remember what Hallah said. Hallah was Rye's sister. Husk did not know much about the family, but that much he did know.

Rye did not have many friends. Husk only had Mr. Bentley. They had a lot in common. Or, at least, they had something in common: They were both outcasts and they both knew it.

The boy with the spiky black hair sighed. "All right, Husk. That's okay. I won't make you speak if you really don't want to."

Husk blinked once.

"I think you and I could get along, though. I don't say that about very many people. I'm not looking for any longterm friendships or alliances - we're having teams anyway, so that's out of the question (and I wouldn't want one in the first place) - with anyone else. It's just really rare for me to meet someone even less popular - or less liked or whatever - than I am, and you peaked my interest which is why I wanted to strike up a conversation with you."

Rye cleared his throat. "Sorry. That-that came out wrong . . ."

Husk blinked once more.

Rye continued, getting back to what he was saying before he interrupted himself. "Well, I guess it could not be called a conversation, exactly . . . but . . ." He inhaled sharply. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think that there is more to both of us than we let on, and I think it'd be really cool for me to stick around you a little longer. I can't really relate to any of the others, try as I might . . ."

For a second, Husk felt something clench within him, but it was gone as soon as it had come. What was that? Another feeling perhaps? It was so fleeting, though, that it could not possible make all too much of an impression on him.

"So . . . would you mind if I hung around you a bit, Husk? Trust me, I'm usually the last person to deliberately ask to hang out with people more than I need to, but this is an exception."

Husk said nothing. Husk did nothing.

"C'mon, do something, Husk!. Nod your head yes. Shake your head no. Shrug your shoulders maybe. Something!"

Husk nodded.

* * *

**Storm Forene, 17, District Two Male**

* * *

"Snow. Make absolutely sure not to stray from my line of sight." His voice was low and crisp when he spoke and Snow did as he commanded her.

On the train, Storm had made it very clear to her of many things before they got too close to the Games, which he could only hope she had taken to heart. One of those was that they were to stick together; he was the only one she knew how to fight with, and it would be unwise to let herself leave his sight. And then there was the other thing the two had spoken about. The thing that Storm had made one-hundred percent certain to whisper so as not to be heard by some rude, nosy tribute from their district. That . . . that had been quite important. That was not for sharing with any other human being. That was just for the two of them, for now.

Neither of them had been very social with the other tributes, and for that Storm was glad. What did they need anyone else for? The two of them were just fine on their own, thank you very much. It was bad enough that Snow had followed him into the arena, did he really need anyone else to follow him around once he got there? Being part of a team was inevitable, of course, he had known that from the start and Volunteered nonetheless, but that was different. They were going to be thrust upon him, whereas during training, he saw many tributes conversing with each other, provoking laughter from one another and such. It was just plain stupid in his opinion.

Storm's attention snapped up to his sister when Snow tapped a little red haired girl on the shoulder. "I saw you trying your hand at archery yesterday," she smirked, every note dripping with sarcasm. "You were pretty good."

Storm recognized the little girl as being Azura Night District Three. He had studied his competition well.

"Really?" she looked up at Snow, brilliant blue eyes wide and a beam crossing her tiny features.

"Yes of course," Snow feigned excitement for a moment, then, her tone took a low spin and she scowled at Azura. "Now move on over, bitch."

Azura looked as though she wanted to cry, but she did not, and she moved over just like Snow asked her to, wearing what must have been the bravest face she could muster.

For a moment, Storm was pleased with his sister. That was the kind of thing that Storm might have done in a different situation back home in District Two, on the rare occasion that he was allowed out of the house and therefore able to see other kids.

But then, only a second later, his pride turned to frustration which quickly escalated into anger.

"That was unwise on you, Snow," he hissed.

Snow giggled. She was not much of a talker, besides for when she stumbled upon an unsuspecting human being, situated perfectly to playing her victim. But when such a person arrived, Snow did not hesitate to take her opportunity.

"I'm serious, Snow. Make one wrong move and you'll end up dead. Following my lead's the only way you'll have a chance; the rest is up to luck. If we're on the same team, there's a possibility that we make it out alive together, if not, one of us is sure to die, if not both."

"I know, Storm," she said calmly. "Don't worry," her tone was meant to be soothing, but Storm was not in the mood to be soothed.

"Listen, Snow. I'm only trying to look out for you here. You're a smart girl, but you've been making one mistake after the next and I don't want you to end up hurt because of it."

"Mistakes?" Snow raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes. Mistakes. Firstly, following me in here when Father and Mother were not forcing you to. Next, picking on a small girl when we were _supposed _to be _sticking together_, _keeping a low profile_, and _consulting each other before each move._"

Snow sighed. "I'm sorry, Storm. Really, I am. I only Volunteered-"

"I know very well why Volunteered, thank you Snow."

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the corner of the Training Center.

"I thought you'd be happy of what I said to the girl!" she cried, throwing her hands up. "Must I forever try to impress you?" she demanded.

Storm sighed, and this time when he spoke, it was in a much softer voice. "I appreciate that Snow, but please, I like you just the way you are. You're my sister. I love you. Let's just try and focus on getting home alive now though, rather than exchange sibling mushy gushy goo which I rather despise to be perfectly honest."

Snow breathed a sigh of relief.

"And don't worry, I'll fix this for us. You're little encounter with Azura's not going to ruin our chances or our greater strategy. I have a plan to mend our larger plan."

"Azura?"

Storm clucked his tongue. "Clearly, someone has not been doing her homework on her fellow tributes; Azura's the twelve-year-old girl you were just picking on."

The corners of Snow's lips seemed to fighting to turn up into a smile which she was trying to repress. She giggled once more. "Yeah, maybe I do have some homework to do on the other tributes."

"Keeping a low profile and consulting each other on every move, Snow," he repeated. "_Don't_ forget it, sister. Please. I'm only trying to keep you alive here."

* * *

**Mike Sanderson, 15, District Ten Male **

* * *

Everywhere he looked he was reminded of her. Clarisse. The girl whom he still had feelings for. She brought out a new him. When Mike was around Clarisse, he did not have to be the crabby, curt, irritable person he knew he generally was. And then he had to go and break up with her, and now there was no way she'd ever take him back. Not that he would ever try to push it if he wound up back home. Not that returning home was what he was going for. He knew what he was doing when he Volunteered. He was not mentally insane and he was not so naive that he believed the Hunger Games to be a desirable thing or that there was any likelihood at all of him coming out alive.

But he did have a mother from whom he needed to escape in any way possible. And this was the only fool-proof way of doing so. So, so what if he died in the process? That was the whole aim in the first place, wasn't it? Wasn't it . . .?

He found it rather unfair, really. There were plenty of people here in this very room with him who had Volunteered for the Games, just like he had. But none of them were really _forced _into it the way he had been. Sure, maybe some of the Careers' parents "forced" them into Volunteering in order to bring them fame and glory and all that, but it was not the same as Mike's being forced. They, as far as Mike knew, were not beat by their mothers. They were not him. They did not come from the same hellhole of a household that he did.

It had been a rather awkward goodbye between Mike and Mother. He bid Father a kind farewell, but when Mother reached out her arms to try and "hug" him, Mike sensed the trap before Mother completed it, and he called desperately to the Peacekeeper, insisting that his time to say his goodbyes was over.

He squinted around the Training Center through a set of pale blue eyes, one currently rimmed with black, courtesy of Mother.

Tributes were everywhere he looked. There was not a station in the whole Center that was entirely free of tributes. So many of them were all around him. Ninety-nine others to be exact. That was quite a large number of tributes to take down, should he intend upon becoming the Ultimate Victor. Good thing that that was not his intention at all. Good thing he expected to and planned on being killed in the arena . . .

Mike was just ninety-nine lives away from winning. Did those sound like good odds? No, not at all. Good thing he was ready to die . . .

His only hope was that at least someone on his Team ended up victorious. Then he could feel as though he helped someone climb the seemingly never ending ladder to victory. Then he'd feel accomplished. Well, he didn't know how things worked after death, but if there was some sort of afterlife or something, then he'd feel accomplished from there.

He was very curious as to whom it would be that would fight with him on his Team. Very curious indeed. He did not know how the Gamemakers and President were planning on creating the Teams, but he doubted that they'd be very kind about it. Not that there was anything, in his case, to be kind about. He wasn't attached to any other tribute in such a way that he wanted to be on their team. If it was up to him, he'd probably wind up flying solo. Since the Teams were being given out anyway, though, he was determined to do whatever he could to help his future teammates.

Mike had not even noticed, but as he mused, lost in thought, he had been pacing in a line, back and forth throughout the Center. Unaware of his surroundings, he smacked straight into Lark, one of his district partners.

It was actually quite remarkable that he had lasted so long before bumping into someone, given that he was not paying attention to anything going on around him.

"Hey, you okay man?" asked Lark with a laugh, steadying Mike's shoulders.

"Uh, yeah. Fine. Thanks."

He spun on his heel to leave, embarrassed, when Lark caught Mike's shoulder and turned him around to face him. "Whoa, did I just give you that?" Lark asked in horror about Mike's black eye. He wondered for a fleeting second how Lark could have not noticed the blackness before, on the train or over the past two days or something, but then it occurred to him that perhaps it had faded so well that it was only noticeable from very close up.

"W-what?" Mike spluttered. "No. No. You did not give this to me."

Mike did not feel like talking to Lark any longer. He turned around and left the other boy standing there, probably bewildered at how closed Mike was to discussion about this topic. Mike could imagine what he was thinking. He probably thought that it could not possibly be so bad that Mike would be so averse to speaking about it.

If only he knew.

* * *

**Raven Garroway, 13, District Eleven Female**

* * *

Raven was not sure whether or not she regretted her decision to Volunteer for Callie. Sometimes, looking around and seeing the scared little twelve-year-olds and envisioning the weeks to come in the arena, Raven knew that the Hunger Games was no place for her little sister. If Raven was going to be totally honest with herself, it felt right to Volunteer on the one hand because she knew that Callie would probably not even be able to survive the Bloodbath, whereas she, Raven, had much more of a chance at winning this thing. On the other hand, however, Raven was just a kid too. She was only thirteen. She tried to shield and envelope herself in the false sense of security brought through her tough exterior that she was tough enough to deal with anything and everything thrown at her, but she knew that this was not the reality.

She tried to rationalize her decision. _When it came down to it, Callie deserved to be protected in every way and needed Raven to do it._ She reminded herself over and over again of the vow she had made to herself after her father died and her mother lost touch with the world around her to never let Callie get hurt in any way. Well . . . the Hunger Games was a way that Callie could get hurt. So here Raven was. She had swooped in to protect her.

But despite all of her attempts to convince herself that she had no other options; that she could not possibly just let Callie go into the arena, there was also that other part of her that was threatening to overwhelm her. There was that part of her that knew deep down that Callie would not be able to survive on her own back home once Raven and their father were dead, and their mother was gone as usual. Evidently, all Raven had done was sign her own death sentence, and condemn her beloved little sister to a lonely life or a slow and painful death of starvation.

What a mess she had made.

Raven figured she better start training soon, before the day was over. She had originally planned to utilize each and every moment of training and make the most of these days that provided the opportunity to train her for the Games and hopefully survive for as long as she possibly could. Maybe she'd even win if luck was on her side.

"Helllloooooooooooooo, Raven!" boomed a familiar chirpy voice, its owner pulling a small boy alongside her, both of the children beaming.

"Hi Izzy," Raven said curtly, abruptly turning and deciding to take an alternative route to the station that she had yet to choose.

"Hey, don't be such a party pooper, Raven." Izzy burst into laughter and her friend did the same.

"I have things to do, Izzy," Raven sighed, not at all grateful for the irksome distraction from the task at hand. "Unlike _some people_ I'm actually going to try and make it out of this thing with my life, so if you don't mind, I'd like to get on with some training now."

Raven was trying to make her tone sound cool and calculating, but either she was doing a horrid job of this, or Izzy was just totally oblivious. "Oh all right, Raven," she said cheerily. "You have fun with that. Conan and I have been doing some training too, you don't have to worry about us. Sweet of you to do so though . . ."

Raven tuned Izzy out from there. She had no recollection of ever saying anything to the pair about worrying about them not training, but she supposed Izzy was just a weird girl.

Izzy babbled on, and Raven was seriously contemplating ignoring the slight traces of manners that had been instilled upon her and totally ditching Izzy and the boy - Conan was his name apparently - but Izzy seemed to genuinely want to talk to her which she was secretly flattered about being as hardly any kids her age ever spoke to her.

The other girl's long black lashes surrounding her chocolate brown eyes blinked up and down repeatedly, as if Izzy was waiting for Raven's answer. Finally, she simply could not withstand this nonsense any longer: If Izzy and Conan were going to go on with their nonstop chatter then that was one thing, but she would not allow herself to be dragged into the conversation.

"I have to go," she said bluntly, and did not look back at either of the bubbly young tributes as she once again focused her attention on choosing a training station.

As she considered whether weaponry or survival skills would help her more once in the arena, however, she gave herself a mental pat on the back for being so polite to both Izzy and Conan and not even snapping at them once. Clearly she was learning to exercise self-control, just like Callie always told her she ought to.

* * *

**Thistle Jaylark, 13, District Twelve Female**

* * *

"So you're conversing with the talkative kids, huh? I'm not going to lie to you, Eleven - I'm an honest person - that was unwise of you."

"What?" the Raven haired girl looked Thistle straight in the eye.

Thistle played with a piece of her own choppy black hair. "You heard me. So who are you, by the way?"

Thistle had just bumped into the other girl when they crossed paths as she made her way over to the tiny station devoted to pick axes, but she could not help but warn the other young girl upon overhearing the conversation.

"Who are _you_?" the girl countered.

"I asked you first," Thistle stated plainly.

"I asked you . . . second. All right, fine. My name is Raven Garroway and I'm from District Eleven, just like you said."

"That's all you need to know about me," Raven Garroway added cooly.

The girl - Raven - turned to go, blatantly uninterested in wasting her time with Thistle. Thistle was rather hurt by this, being as Raven had just spent the past few minutes locked in a conversation with Izzy and Conan, but she could not even wait around for one minute to even hear Thistle's name?

Thistle caught her shoulder and turned her back around. "Hey, wait a minute; I'm Thistle. Thistle Jaylark from District Twelve. I thought you might want to question my previous statement about it being unwise to hang out with your friends Conan and Izzy like that." The momentary pang of hurt Thistle had felt vanished easily as she worked her way into a conversation with Raven. She kept her face even, not betraying any emotions through her features and letting her voice do all of the work of that area.

Raven sighed. "They're not my friends and if they were I would do what I want with them. The opinion of some girl I just met would not really influence my decision, in all honesty. How old are you anyway?"

"Thirteen, you?"

"Same. And so is Izzy. And don't you go trashing Izzy so much like that, Thistle. You may not like her and I may have no intentions whatsoever of becoming 'friends' with her, but she is from my district and she is one of the few people who's actually nice to me back home. I don't have a lot of friends; my little sister is really the only one who actually cares about me like a good friend should, but there are a couple of people who try to help me out and are just nice people and I would really appreciate you laying off of them."

Thistle put a finger to her chin thoughtfully.

Raven through up her hands in exasperation. "Why am I even telling you any of this?! I don't even know you!"

Thistle clucked her tongue thoughtfully. "Yeah, you're right. You don't know me. Maybe I just have that kind of effect on people that I can get them to tell me their whole life story," she said casually with a shrug.

The other girl, much taller than Thistle's tiny self despite them being the same age, snorted heavily. "I sincerely doubt that. Now I'm just going to leave you here to do whatever you please and I would much appreciate a very minimal contact or - preferably - none at all for the remainder of our time here in the Training Center as I have many far more important things to do with my life than just stand here and talk to some idiotic little girl!"

Thistle was unfazed by the other girl's words. She was not easily offended by this girl any more. She had already adapted to Raven's style of speech. She had already established Raven's tendencies and therefore it would take a lot more than just being herself in order for Raven's words to get to Thistle. "I'm just as old as you are," she reminded Raven thoughtfully. "You're a little girl too."

Raven heaved a sigh. "Exactly."

And without another word from either party, she left Thistle there to wonder what on earth she had meant by that.

* * *

**Branwen "Brandy" Radke, 17, District Two Female**

* * *

Sometimes Brandy wondered how she truly could have been from District Two. She had seldom handled a dangerous object in her entire life, let alone actually trained for the Games.

Swimming and animals were just about her two favorite things in the world. She seemed more like a girl from District Four or Ten than Two of all places. Ten seemed more fitting due to the whole lack-of-training thing along with the fact that animals topped swimming on her list of favorite things, though she did truly love to swim. She had been told that she loved animals a little too much, which only encouraged her even more.

A shudder ripped through Brandy's body as she observed some tributes from Seven practicing with their axes. Those were merely the District Seven tributes and she shook just watching them practice with the weapon of choice of most tributes from their district. She could not even bare to think about what some of her own district partners could be getting up to in this Training Center. This place was simply not for her. She was not a little kid who could not protect herself from anything, yet she felt so helpless that she might as well have been twelve-years-old again, crying about having to face her first reaping and being soothed in her mother's gentle arms and told not to worry because a Volunteer would be sure to follow even on the off chance that she was reaped.

But five years later Brandy's mother's words were proved false. It was not her fault of course. She could not have possibly ever imagined what this year's Quell would entail.

More than she ever thought she would, Brandy realized how wonderful District Two was. There, at _home_, she would never have to even begin to worry about dying or being forced to kill another tribute - another innocent little child. There she could spend her days at her leisure, swimming and playing with all of the animals, and spending time with her parents and friends.

If Branwen was able to get home, one thing was for certain. Never again would she take for granted the monotonous routine that was her lifestyle. Never again would she role her eyes at her father when he interrupted her afternoon swim, gave her blond hair a tug and told her that it was family time. Never again would she groan when her mother woke her up so early in the morning.

But forever and always, until the day she died, Branwen would shiver when she passed the main Training Center of District Two. She and her friends would always stop in their tracks, and put their cheerful chatter aside.

Even before she was reaped, Branwen had always hated that place; it always gave her a bad vibe and the Career kids who trained there were rather scary in her opinion.

She didn't think her outlook on that particular part of her district would ever change. Even after years and years of living as a Victor.

Suddenly, Brandy's brain seemed to want to shut down. It must have been that word that was the trigger. How could she even bear to think that word? It did not make her think of luxury or fame. But most importantly, it did not make her think of anything in her near future. All it made her think of is what she would never be. She'd never be a Victor. Within a few weeks she'd never even be alive again.

Brandy felt like curling up into a ball and crying. And she did just that. Her feet melted to the ground and she buried her face in her hand. She wasn't sure whether the droplets of fluid she felt were in fact tears or simply traces of sweat leftover from her exhausting day of attempted training, but it was all the same in her mind.

Suddenly, it all came crashing down on her. Suddenly, she lost all hope. Suddenly, she realized that there was no point in fantasizing about her life after she returned home.

Because suddenly, she observed a Career break a huge metal dummy cleanly in two with just one swift swipe of his sword and he locked eyes with her. And suddenly, Branwen realized that she did not stand a chance. This was a far worse trigger than thinking the word "Victor."

She had been wrong. Her thoughts were not the problem. It was what her five senses brought into her brain that had the capability to cause her to be so upset.

* * *

**Sterling Lancaster, 17, District One Male**

* * *

Sterling sighed. He was feeling conflicted - conflicted on what to feel. It did not really matter all that much how the conflict resolved itself, as it was not a decision of what to do, only what to feel, but he was confused by it nonetheless. On the one hand, he missed Max and Stephannie terribly and he knew that they needed him back home to be a good big brother.

However, he also needed to fulfill his father's dying wish of having a child become a Victor. He needed more than anything to bring this final glory to his dad's name. And besides, this way Steph and Max won't even have to Volunteer by the time they're old enough, because Sterling will already have the Victor thing covered. It was a win-win really.

He sliced the head off of the plastic dummy smoothly and grinned. This was going to be easy. He'd be back home with Stephannie in his lap telling her and Max stories of his adventures in the Games in no time. It was going to be a piece of cake and he figured he might as well enjoy all of the attention he would be getting from the Capitol leading up to it.

The trainer grudgingly gave Sterling a nod of approval and the boy beamed. He was very well regarded in his own training school back home, but it was just not quite the same as receiving the official stamp of approval from an actual Capitol trainer.

"Got anything else for me to try?" Sterling asked lightheartedly.

The trainer, apparently, was not too fond of tributes who were too pushy in terms of the training. "I'll be asking the questions here kid, thank you very much," he snarled, nostrils flaring and hazel eyes growing icy cold. "Now if you'd really like a challenge, rather than just an opportunity to show everyone how skilled you are with your weapon of choice and boast about it, I would suggest trying something you are not quite as skilled in."

Whoa. Clearly this man was not a big fan of Sterling. Had he said something to offend him? He certainly hadn't meant to.

Maybe there was just something about new adult males and Sterling that just didn't click. It sounded like a farfetched and just plain stupid assumption to make, but when it came down to it, it did not seem that far off from the reality.

Once he lost his father it had pretty much gone all down hill from there: He had a hard time relating to his mother's new boyfriend, and though he didn't really talk much with other adult men, whenever he was around them he always became uncomfortable and had to distract his mind from focusing on his father too much. He never meant for it to happen, but it always just did. He saw his dad wherever he went and, try as he might, Sterling just couldn't seem to stop his father's face from creeping into his mind whenever he saw that of another man who bore even the tiniest resemblance to his father. This trainer, just like his father, had hazel eyes, though this pair contained not even the barest hint of the sparkling warmth that Sterling's father's did. These were cruel eyes. Yet they were still hazel and that was what counted. They still looked a bit like Sterling's dad's eyes if he did not look anything fast the surface . . .

Now that he thought more and more about it, it did seem likely that Sterling was having trouble coping with his dad's death in this way of interacting with grown men properly. For example, one day when his mother was busy she asked Sterling to bring Stephannie over to her friend Attraction's house for a play-date. Attraction's father opened the door, and all that Sterling could notice was the creases between his eyes when he smiled at Sterling and Stephannie. He left rather awkwardly, telling Stephannie that their mother would be by to pick her up in a couple of hours and giving both her and Attraction very awkward ruffles of the hair.

Sterling left the trainer and the sword-fight station behind, but turned over to hand-to-hand combat rather than spears. If he was going to take the trainer's advice, then spears would be the better decision, as he really had no idea how to use them, but this was awful advice in his opinion. He would much rather just show off- erm, _practice_ what he already could do well while he still could instead of trying to take on a whole new project - that he did not know whether he could master - and hand-to-hand was a close second to sword-fighting for him.

* * *

**Alvara Edele, 18, District Seven Female**

* * *

Tessa and Bryce Hart had officially taken it too far. Alvara decided as of last night that Adonis was under no circumstances to leave her sight for even a minute throughout the duration of training, so as not to get himself into trouble with them. It was a good thing that she had refused Riley's offer of "allying" herself with him and some others from her district. She had her hands more than filled with taking care of Adonis, let alone another three people to feel responsible for.

More than once over the last two days, Alvara had to repress the overwhelming urge to wipe the pretty little sly smile off of Tessa's flawless face and pummel Bryce's huge figure to a pulp. There was a tiny part of the circumstance which was, in fact, Adonis's fault for letting them get to him and not just ignoring them and walking away like she tried to teach him to do with the bullies back home, (she always told him that she would handle them for him) but he could hardly be put to blame for being verbally abused (and the physical part was yet to come once the Games began) by some Careers.

Alvara scowled at the twins from District Two who were casually passing by the spot where Alvara was holding onto Adonis's arm and her already firm grip tightened on his smooth flesh. Not that these tributes had ever done anything to her and she felt guilty about scowling at them, but she really could not even deal with thinking about Career twins at the moment.

"So Adonis," she said flatly. "Where to?"

Adonis shrugged. "I dunno. I was hoping maybe I'd get to see that Wade kid again. He seemed nice . . ."

Alvara left him in silence for a few moments, when she finally did speak, it was with the air of explaining something to someone despite knowing that they would never quite totally grasp the concept.

"Adonis . . . this is the Hunger Games."

"The Hunger Games," he agreed, with a flick of platinum blond hair across his shoulder.

"Right. This is a place where kids come to brutally _murder _each other. Not to make friends and have play-dates with each other."

Adonis put a hand to his forehead theatrically. "Honestly, Alvara, sometimes from the way you spoke to me one would think I was just some idiot of a child. I know what the Hunger Games is; my name's only been in the reaping bowl for what, four years now? I know the way it works and I know where we're going. So excuse me for trying to have some fun along the way."

He stamped his foot on the ground like a young child throwing a tantrum.

"I'm _sorry_," Alvara could tell that he was putting as much sarcastic emphasis on the single word as he possibly could to be build the effect, but she did not care to play along with his theatrics.

She grinned lightly. "Apology accepted, brother dearest."

And with that, she took his hand in hers and began to lead him off.

Adonis looked as if he wanted to protest at first, but eventually gave in and smiled back at his sister.

The light grin which depicted a happiness just slightly above your average casual indifference did not stray from Alvara's chiseled features, but on the inside, she was beaming just as she always did whenever Adonis voiced or showed his appreciation for her trying to help him out, even in a situation such as this one where she would have to look a little deeper beneath his words and into that smile of his to find that gratitude.

* * *

**Thatcher Corrs, 12, District Three Male**

* * *

Thatcher could still picture his grandmother's horror struck face in his mind's eye. His green eyes had automatically flitted to her right after his name was drawn, despite knowing that he was bound to see something he would not like.

He knew how devastated she already was at loosing Thatcher's parents. Grandmother did not like to talk about it and she liked to pretend that it was not true or that Thatcher could not tell, but he knew. He knew that she had fallen apart at their deaths when he was just a young child and he knew that he, Thatcher, was the only thing that was keeping her together. The only thing keeping her from falling apart entirely. The only thing keeping her strong. Thatcher and Grandmother made each other strong. He also knew that she loved him with all her heart, and that, as much of a toll loosing not just one child, but two at the same time. (Grandmother always considered Thatcher's mother like a daughter, even though she was technically his father's mother.)

Yet she had been strong for him and she had loved him and shown him the proper care and wisdom that only a mother could. (She had raised children before, after all, as she never failed to remind him of.)

Thatcher always played things safe; hhat was another thing Grandmother taught him to be.

Be it in school, with Grandmother, or anywhere else in the world, Thatcher hated taking risks and he hated not knowing the outcome of things. Good thing here he already knew what the outcome would be. Death.

He could play it safe though, which he would use to his advantage, even if it may not save him from the ultimate outcome of death. At least he would be able to use every single last moment to its fullest so as not to waste any time and be as careful as possible.

He had already proved to himself and the rest of the Center that he was physically very strong for a twelve-year-old. He had been able to throw some weights that some others were struggling with. He had already learned how to use one weapon: a spear. For now, one would be enough. Sure he was not nearly as perfect as say, a seventeen-year-old from District Two, but he could not really hold himself to that standard. He was only a twelve-year-old from District Three. He figured that if there was still time at the end of training, he would either go back to the spear or select a new weapon to learn. He did not know how to make his own spear, but they generally were available in the Games. Hopefully this year they would be.

And that brought him to the final category of things he had considered trying to perfect during training. Knowledge.

Blah, blah, blah. Knowledge, knowledge, knowledge.

Thatcher grew up in District Three where knowledge was just about the most common thing to collect and the most prized possession of many-a-man.

He did not really feel like doing anything related to knowledge at the moment, though. Back home, it felt as if he never _knew _quite enough for Grandmother. She loved him with all her heart and cared for him profusely, - that Thatcher knew without a doubt - but she had focused most of her efforts as his gaurdian into making him two things: First and foremost a kind and proper gentleman. And then clever; she wanted him to be smart. Wise.

And Thatcher _was_ clever and he _was _smart and wise and all of it. (Not to mention quite the polite gentleman.) But sometimes he felt as though this was not him. Sometimes he felt as though this was his dad. He knew that above all, Thechner Corrs, his father, was clever man with a kind heart.

Sometimes, Thatcher could not help but wonder if by teaching him that this was all he ought to be, and the rest would make its way into his head and heart later on, she was only trying to mold him into what her own son once was. Sometimes, he wondered whether he himself was just trying to be like his father, rather than growing into being his own person.

He loved who he was and who Grandmother had taught him to be. He did not want to change himself at all. He only questioned it.

Did not want to change it, only questioned it.

But for now, he figured that even questioning it was an excuse for keeping away from having to absorb too much new information during Training. He did not want to make it seem as though all he was was a clone of his father. He was his own person, and going for more stations involving the mind and memorization and just knowing things would not really help his case. Even though the case was only against . . . himself?

He knew that it could get him killed, but for what very well may have been the first time in his life - the first time in his recent memory at the very least - Thatcher Corrs did not care. Thatcher Corrs did not think about the future or even the past.

Right now, he was living in the moment and going with his gut. And at this moment, his gut was telling him that he should stay away from taking in any more knowledge right now.

* * *

**Riley O'Connor, 18, District Seven Male**

* * *

Riley, Terro, and Sapphire had spent the past two days together. Riley had consulted Alvara, but she firmly stated that she would be staying with her little brother, Adonis, forever and always and that he needed her more than they did. Riley tried to explain that Adonis was more than welcome too, but Alvara retained the position that the Edele siblings would not be joining Riley, Terro, and Sapphire's "alliance," also mentioning that she did not think it would wind up working out in the end. She said that she knew what was going to happen. She was of the opinion that the three of them would wind up split into three separate teams, and then none of them would no what to do about it, being as this would make it very hard for them to protect each other and refrain from having each other killed by their own teammates. Riley only hoped that she was proven incorrect, but he knew that there was a good chance of this happening.

At the weight-throwing station, the to boys, both very strong, delicately held Sapphire's arms when demonstrating to her how to throw heavy objects.

She blushed at Terro's careful touch, but Terro was oblivious to this and Riley smiled.

Coming from District Seven, they all should have had at least some minimal knowledge of how to use an ax, but Riley was shocked to find out that Sapphire actually was inept with that particular weapon.

He and Terro decided that since they were the ones who chose the weights station, Sapphire would get to choose where they went next.

To Riley's surprise, once again, Sapphire led them directly over to the sword-fight station. She barreled straight to the front of the crowd gathered around the twins from District Two, watching them going at each other with the dull swords provided for the purpose of training using weaponry between tributes.

Sapphire strutted right up, coming between in between their fight and knocked the handle right out of the Career boy's hand. His sister gasped and the boy from Two bared his teeth and glared intensely at Sapphire. Sapphire only glared back at him, oblivious to the danger this could bring to her later on in the arena.

Riley tried to get her attention and tell her to leave these Careers alone, but Sapphire was not having any of it.

She drew herself up to her full height of 5'9" and began slashing the sword at the girl from Two.

"I recognize you, Two," she spat. "Back before I transferred districts from Two to Seven, we were in Training School together, weren't we?"

The girl shrugged. "I didn't go to Training School with you. Father enrolled me and Storm at only the best School, where filth like you would never be allowed to even set foot in," she said haughtily, as if it was beneath her to be trained at the kind of Training School which Sapphire supposedly attended for a short period of time when she lived in District Two. "And I've defeated a lot of pwetty wittle girls like yourself in a lot of pwetty wittle places like this one, so what makes you think I'll remember you past today either?"

Sapphire growled. "I didn't say you would. I'm only saying that I know you from Training School, and we have some unfinished business to attend to."

The Career girl giggled and let out a little yip.

Fast as lightning, Two brought her sword down and sliced it across Sapphire's neck. "Boom. Dead." She knocked Sapphire to the ground. Her weapon clanged to the floor. "Has our 'business' been attended to?" she laughed a high-pitched sound. It sounded to Riley like a garbage disposal churning endlessly.

The girl's brother grabbed her wrist. "Snow!" he snapped. "What did we discuss?!"

She clamped a hand over her mouth. Undoubtedly she had done something she knew she was not supposed to and he was angry with her about it. "Sorry, Brother, I-"

He looked around. "We'll talk about this in private. Come along now."

Riley walked over to Sapphire and lifted her to her feet. "Hey, that's okay," he breathed. "It was really brave of you to try and face a Career like that."

Terro was not as gentle. "You could have gotten yourself killed, Sapphire! What were you thinking?"

Sapphire rolled her eyes, but the total embarrassment of losing so badly could be seen behind her facade on nonchalance. "I wouldn't have gotten myself killed, Terro, the swords were not sharp."

"No, but I'm sure that Two's memory is. She'll remember you Sapphire, mark my words. Even if she says that she won't. And it's not going to be good for you when she does."

Sapphire gulped.

Riley put an arm on her shoulder comfortingly. "Don't worry, Sapphire. This is what this friendship pact is all about. Terro and I are going to protect you, right?"

"Right," Terro agreed, but even as Terro agreed to his words, Riley began to doubt them himself. He knew what he had said earlier, but was he, in all honesty, prepared to give up a shot at survival to help either of them out? He knew that the answer, deep down, was no. He needed to save himself if he could. The whole point was that if he could _not _make it out alive, then he wanted Terro or Alvara or Sapphire to. But what if it came down to saving himself or one of his "allies?"

"Right," Terro repeated once more. "I'm sorry Sapphire," he concluded. "I really didn't mean to scare you, it's just . . . I wanted to make sure that maybe you remain a little more . . . cautious from now on."

Sapphire nodded, but she was lacking her usual confidence. "Y-Yeah. Thanks, Terro. That makes sense."

For a moment, there, Riley was reminded of himself and his exchanges with Terra. Whenever his wife would do something dangerous, whatever it may be, Riley would snap at her at first, thinking only of how he could have almost lost her, but then, a second later, he would wrap her in his arms and whisper into her hair that it would be okay and that he loved her and that he was sorry he got angry at her.

Besides for the physical contact, this scene was kind of similar to that one. Except, when Riley tried to comfort Terra, she always emerged with a smile on her face, whereas all Sapphire did was nod.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry for the long wait once again! Hopefully, from now on I'll be able to get back to my previous normal update schedule, but no promises. Also, just so you know, I'm sorry if I was unable to get your character perfectly, but some of you did not include quite so much detail in the form. This chapter was considerably shorter than the first two reaping chapters, but I'm fairly pleased with it anyway. I like the first two better, but I'm not upset with this one. **

**And now we're officially done with training! Next chapter will include the private sessions and the ranks will be announced! Exciting! Only a couple of tributes will get a POV of their actual training session, though, so beware :)**

**Thank you all so much for reading this chapter and I would really appreciate it if you left a review on your way out :D**

**I'd love for you to comment on the different POVs here in this chapter :) And, of course, how was my writing here?**

**Thanks again XD**


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